Fear Itself
by LuckyLadybug
Summary: Takes place after 41 Down is Saturday. It starts on Halloween: one by one, citizens of Gotham are seeing their greatest fears brought to life. But who's behind such a cruel scheme, and why? Batman, Yin, and The Riddler try to unravel this latest mystery and how it connects with the current strangeness at Arkham Asylum. They'll need their developing friendships to get through this.
1. Chapter 1

**The Batman**

**Fear Itself**

**By Lucky_Ladybug**

**Notes: The characters from the **_**Batman **_**franchise are not mine and the other characters and the story are! This is a semi-follow-up to **_**41 Down is Saturday**_**; these events are alluded to in that story's climax and this continues the timeline, so the Riddler is working as a "consultant" (really a private detective) and has started to gain the trust of Yin and Batman. It's an introduction story of sorts for Scarecrow, a character planned on but never debuted in **_**The Batman**_** cartoon. There's an unused concept art of him in costume on the Legions of Gotham website. That is basically how I imagine the character to look here. Un-costumed, I picture him probably pretty close to how he looked in **_**Batman Begins**_**, as that's where I've had the most experience with the character. I'll be experimenting with characterization, since there's no official version of him for **_**The Batman**_**, but I hope some of the elements I'll be including will keep him recognizable to those who know him from other verses.**

**Chapter One**

Gotham was always a mysterious city at any time, but even moreso on Halloween. Ghosts and goblins and every other sort of character, good and bad, roamed the streets in search of treats. Pranks were commonplace in some neighborhoods, and the police were on high alert in those areas in the hopes of quelling window waxing, buckets balanced on mops, and other unpleasant surprises.

The Gotham Wax Museum was also a big attraction, staying open until midnight in order to bring in as many curious visitors as possible. The evening was currently still young, not even fully dark yet, and its biggest hours were always after nightfall.

Detective Ellen Yin sighed to herself as she rounded another corner in the old Gotham business district. She was off-duty now and heading home, where she planned to pass out candy to the kids and maybe attend a Halloween party to which she had been invited. She hoped that would be the extent of the evening's adventures; past Halloweens had been filled with disturbances such as the first Clayface pretending to be Solomon Grundy and destroying homes. That was not something she wanted to see repeated.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter. Really, she did not want to think about Clayface at all. The first incarnation of that villain was gone now, she hoped for good. Ethan Bennett had recently turned himself in to the police and Arkham, finally ready to accept the help that had been offered to him so long ago. He was still at Arkham, undergoing treatments and psychiatric care, but he was of far sounder mind than he had been the last time rehabilitation had been attempted. Yin really believed that this time he would make it back all the way. She had been supporting him and visiting whenever she could, as she knew Bruce Wayne also had. And Ethan was humbled and appreciated every bit of it.

It was strange to think that she had finally been regaining an old friend at the same time an old enemy had been becoming a new friend. She had started to think differently about the Riddler on the Friday Night Killer case several weeks ago, and his subsequent death had badly shaken her. She had talked about it somewhat with Ethan, and he had been sympathetic, but she hadn't wanted to burden him too deeply when he had his own issues to work through.

And when she hadn't known what to make of starting to feel different about the Riddler.

His reappearance had both stunned and relieved her. At first she had been angry with him for not revealing that he was alive, but he had been so sincerely remorseful and regretful upon realizing that Yin would have honestly wanted to know the truth that she had fully forgiven him. And the adventures they had been through on that case had culminated in them feeling like they were becoming friends.

She smirked a bit. Friends with such an arrogant, obnoxious man? That certainly wasn't something she ever would have predicted in a thousand years. Or that he would be such a thoughtful friend. He was quirky and certainly had mood swings, but he was loyal to those he cared about and Yin was still disgusted that his love, Julie, had chosen power instead of him. She wondered if Julie would ever regret it, but somehow she doubted it. At least, if Julie would regret it, it wouldn't be enough to prompt her to want to turn her life around.

Yin blinked in surprise to suddenly look up and notice the street and the block she was on. The Riddler had set up his office as a consultant and troubleshooter here; his sign was swinging in the evening breeze just up ahead. And . . . _he_ was lying sprawled on the sidewalk?!

Yin slammed on the brakes at the curb and leaped out, running over and kneeling down next to him. "Riddler!" she called, reaching to search for a pulse at his neck. It was strong, even somewhat fast. But he was clearly not conscious.

She pushed down a wave of confusion tinged with fear. What on Earth was wrong? Without moving him, she tried to gently feel for any indications of trauma. "Riddler!" she called again, more forcefully.

He started suddenly and jerked away with a cry. "I told you the truth!" he shouted, curling into a protective ball. "Stop beating me, Father!"

Yin stared at him in disbelief. "Riddler, it's me," she said. "It's Yin. There's no one else here."

"No," the Riddler moaned. "He was here. . . . My father beat me."

"I can't even find any signs that you were physically harmed," Yin said.

That finally penetrated. The Riddler's eyes snapped open and he knelt up on the sidewalk. "What?" He looked around wildly in bewilderment. "How could he have gotten away so fast? Maybe you scared him off."

"There was no one here when I drove up." Yin regarded him in concern. "Where did he hit you? And why?"

"I don't really know why," the Riddler frowned. He pulled his cane to him and used it to balance himself as he unsteadily got to his feet. "He just came at me shouting and screaming that I was a disappointment to him in every way and that the only thing he had ever wanted from me was for me to be interested in baseball. He hit me on the shoulder with a bat." Slowly he ran his hand over his right shoulder. "When I faltered, he struck me on the back and then kept on hitting me, without me being able to get in one defensive strike. He must have beat me unconscious, just like when I was a boy."

Yin got up with him, worried. "You don't seem like you're in a lot of pain," she said. "If you had really come through an assault like that, I don't think you could stand up."

She didn't need to see his eyes to know that behind the mask, they were narrowing. "What are you suggesting, Yinsey? That I'm insane and imagined it? I never really was insane, you know. I just have a compulsion for riddles."

"I'm not suggesting that at all," Yin retorted. "Come on, let's go inside. If you're badly hurt, you should sit down. And I should probably call an ambulance."

He moved slowly, leaning heavily on his cane as he led her to the door and then inside the office. He had brought a couch in now, Yin immediately noticed, and he gestured to it as he pressed a button on his cane to open the secret room in the back. "Sit down. I'm going to see how bad off I am." He frowned. "You're right that I don't feel like I'm in pain. And after the beating he gave me, I don't understand it."

Yin followed him to the opening door instead. "If you _are_ hurt, you'll need help," she declared. "If you're not comfortable with me helping you, you'll just have to deal with it. Unless you've got some Riddlemen hanging around."

He looked back over his shoulder. "I shouldn't have expected anything less from you, Yinsey," he purred. "Yes, there should be at least a couple of Riddlemen around here somewhere. But if you don't mind, we might as well not waste time calling for them."

He let the heavy panel swing shut and set the cane aside. He was still wearing the green suit he had switched to wearing several weeks ago, and he moved slowly as he unbuttoned the suit coat and draped it on another couch. But the speed of his movements gradually increased as he pulled off his tie and unbuttoned the black shirt.

"There isn't any pain at all," he mused, slowly sliding it off his shoulders.

"And there's no bumps or bruises or even reddening skin," Yin said. She touched his right shoulder. "Does this hurt?"

"No." He turned to face her, utter confusion written on his features. "I don't understand. He beat me senseless! How can I not be in pain?! And how can there not be any injuries?!"

"Riddler . . ." Yin frowned. "Are you absolutely sure he was here? Maybe you were dreaming."

"I was bored of sleeping on conventional objects and decided to lie down on the sidewalk?" the Riddler said dryly.

"Have you ever sleepwalked?" Yin suggested.

"Never." He buttoned the shirt and retied the tie. "And you can double-check on that with the Arkham guards."

"I believe you." Yin folded her arms. "But what does that leave?"

"A hallucination?" The Riddler slipped on the suit coat, looking thoughtful now. "There _is_ one strange thing I remember. There was an odd smell right before my father came at me."

Yin grimaced. "So someone may have deliberately drugged you into experiencing the confrontation with your father? Who? Another of those 'many enemies' you were talking about?"

"I really don't know." He reached under the coat, drawing out his long hair and leaving it on top. "I guess it could have even been an accident. Maybe some pusher spilled some of his wares and the fumes reached me."

"That's a thought. I'll check around." Yin turned to head for the door, then paused. "Is there any chance your father really was here, but just didn't beat you? Maybe he had the drug or whatever it was."

"He's an alcoholic, not a drug addict," the Riddler retorted, looking slightly ruffled.

"Alright. I'm sorry." Yin studied the large panel in front of her. "How does this open from this side?"

"You press here." He came over, touching a spot on the wall. It swung open again and Yin stepped out in relief.

"I'll let you know what I find out," Yin said.

"I'll come with you. I don't expect that we'll find much to speak of, however," the Riddler said. "I haven't heard any reports of pushers operating on this street. And I do have underworld connections."

"I'm sure you do," Yin sighed.

xxxx

The Riddler was right; no one on the block was aware of anything to do with drugs happening so close. And even some whose activities were suspicious seemed upset at the thought.

"No one else remembers smelling anything odd, either," the Riddler frowned as they walked back towards his office.

"You know what?" Yin said. "I think I'm going to find your father and ask him about this."

The Riddler froze. "That isn't a good idea," he said. "He beat me as a child and I'm still unsure that he wasn't here, even if he didn't actually attack me. But whether he did or not, he won't like interference from you. He might try to harm you just for asking him if he came out here." He unlocked the door and stepped inside. "I told you before that I've been keeping tabs on him. I'll call and ask him myself."

"Just as long as _someone_ asks him," Yin said. "Would he be home now?"

The Riddler glanced at the clock. "If he's not, he'll be at one of the local bars." Sitting at the desk, he picked up the telephone and started to dial a number. As he leaned back, listening to it ring, he gazed off into the distance. "Friday's child is full of woe," he muttered in a singsong tone.

Yin started. "What?"

He looked as puzzled as she was. But before he had a chance to talk about it, a gruff voice came over the phone. "Hello?"

He snapped to attention. "Hello, Father," he greeted. "This is your _loving_ son." He played with a pen on the desk as he sarcastically spoke.

A long silence followed. "What the heck are you doing callin' me out of the blue, Champ? And where are you? In jail again?"

"Do you really not know where I am?" the Riddler retorted. "Or were you here approximately thirty minutes ago?"

A scoff. "Like I'd even know where to go or even _want_ to go. You proved you're just as bad as me when you were kicked out of the university, and a lot worse than me when you decided to become a supervillain. Yeah, I know all about your Riddler thing."

"And here I was wondering if you would even recognize me. So you honestly don't know where I'm currently living?" The Riddler leaned forward, resting his left arm on the desk.

"I don't know. What is this? Is that all you called to ask me?"

"I want to know if you came here and attacked me," the Riddler said.

A loud stream of swearing came through the phone. The Riddler held it away from his ear with a grimace. Yin narrowed her eyes.

When the tirade finally ceased, the Riddler finally brought the phone back. "If you're done speaking like a trash compactor, I take it you're telling me in a most unoriginal way that you didn't do it."

"I don't know what kind of a gag you're pulling, but don't you dare try to drag me into it," the outraged man snarled. "I really will find you and beat you. And it'll be worse than when you were a kid!" With that he slammed down the phone.

Yin looked tense. "He might really mean that."

"I know." The Riddler slowly replaced the receiver and clasped his hands, resting them on the edge of the desk. An involuntary shiver ran up his spine. He was either thinking about the real attack in his childhood or the apparent false one now. Either way, it haunted him.

Yin watched him, wishing she could do something to ease his pain. "Will you be safe?"

"I'll put my security cameras on top alert. And as I said, there's always some Riddlemen around."

Yin nodded. "That's good." She knew they were loyal to him.

"So everything will be fine." But he still sounded far away.

"I'm sorry you had to call him," she said after a moment.

The Riddler still looked troubled. "The problem is, I believe him," he said. "He wasn't here. But then, what _happened?_"

Yin still had no answer. "And what was that thing you started reciting while you were waiting for him to pick up?" she asked.

"That? Oh." He frowned. "It's part of an old nursery rhyme. I don't know why it suddenly popped into my head." Glancing at the day-by-day calendar on his desk, he shrugged. "I guess I was just thinking about it being Friday."

"I guess," Yin said.

She hesitated for a moment, but the Riddler was not in a talking mood and she didn't want to pry. Not knowing what else to really do under the circumstances, she sighed. ". . . I should probably go," she said, feeling awkward. "The kids'll be coming by the apartment and I have a Halloween party to get ready for."

"By all means." The Riddler waved her off. "I'm quite well. Don't let this bizarre mystery keep you here."

Yin nodded and turned to go, then paused. "Actually . . . would you like to come with me? To the party, I mean."

He raised an eyebrow. "Would they want someone there whom they haven't invited?"

"They encourage everyone to bring a friend," Yin said. "I haven't found anyone free to go with me. I figured I'd just be going by myself, but if you're up for it . . ."

He hesitated. Yin imagined it was definitely not his usual sort of activity. She hadn't even thought of asking him before because of that. But once she had blurted it out about the party's existence, she didn't imagine it would hurt to ask. And it might take his mind off of what had happened . . . or what _hadn't_ happened.

Finally he got up. "Why not."

She relaxed. "Great. I'll come by in a couple of hours to pick you up."

"Fine. Oh, but one thing. Is this a costume party?"

"Costumes are optional," Yin said. "I probably wasn't going to wear one."

He smirked. "Where's your Halloween spirit, Yinsey?"

She sighed but smirked too. "If you want to do it, I guess I could throw something together."

"You'll see," he proclaimed. "It will be more fun that way."

Yin turned to go. "We'll see," she said noncommittally.

It occurred to her as she left that the Riddler tended to prefer to wear elements of a costume at all times, specifically that mask. She wondered if that was because he felt more comfortable that way. Perhaps without a mask, he felt too vulnerable.

That was sad in a way, she decided as she got into her car.

xxxx

Bruce Wayne couldn't keep from feeling a chill up his spine as the guard let him into the old brick building. Arkham Asylum was not the greatest place in the world to be at any time, let alone on Halloween. But before he prepared for a night of watching over Gotham as The Batman, he had decided he wanted to visit with an old friend.

"Ethan!" he greeted as he entered the visiting room.

"Bruce!" Ethan Bennett looked up with a bright smile.

The friends met and hugged. "How are you doing, Ethan?" Bruce asked as they pulled back.

"I'm doing real good, Bruce," Ethan said sincerely. "The doctors think I'll be able to make it this time."

"That's great, but what do _you_ think?" Bruce asked.

Ethan paused, considering his answer. "Well, this time I came in of my own free will, instead of being caught and dragged in kicking and screaming. You know what I mean. And I think that really will make a difference. I didn't realize before how hard it is to get back into the swing of things after being on a wrong path. That was probably part of the problem the last time. It was just too much to deal with on top of everything else. But now I know. I've had time to think about it and now I know I'd rather deal with that then to keep being a criminal."

"That's great, Ethan," Bruce smiled. "Have you thought about what you want to do when you get out?"

"Kind of," Ethan said. "Oh, who am I kidding? I think about it all the time." He went and sat at the table in the middle of the room. "I guess what I really want is to get back into law enforcement, but that's out of the question."

"Maybe not." Bruce came and sat next to him. "There _were_ extenuating circumstances in your case. I'm sure Commissioner Gordon would take that into account."

"Yeah, but what about Rojas? And my fellow officers?" Ethan sighed. "And would the citizens of Gotham ever feel safe knowing that Clayface was on the police force?"

"_Former_ Clayface," Bruce stressed. "There'd be some hurdles to get past, of course, but I still think it could work."

Ethan smiled, somewhat sadly. "You've always been my best friend through all of this," he said. "Yin too. Never giving up on me even when it looked like Clayface was all that was left."

Bruce felt a stab of guilt. He knew that at least for his part, he _had_ given up for a while. Someday, he supposed, he would have to tell Ethan that truth. But not today.

"Yeah," he said. "Detective Yin never believed that Ethan Bennett was gone for good."

A scream from outside the room brought Ethan's attention up sharply. He went to the door, peering out through the window.

"What is it?" Bruce asked, getting up too. "Isn't that just one of the more uncooperative patients wanting out?"

"Could be. Around here, it's not always easy to tell." Ethan looked back to Bruce when he didn't see anything in the hall. "There's been some real bad stuff going on around here lately."

"That's what I've heard," Bruce frowned. "What is it, exactly?"

Ethan looked worried. "I don't know that I should say anything at this point. One time somebody else tried to talk about it and then an inmate he was friends with had a mysterious accident. Like that was a punishment for talking, you know? Right now it might be safer for the others if I keep quiet. Maybe when I'm out . . ."

"Alright, Ethan." Bruce laid a hand on Ethan's shoulder. "Nevermind." He paused. "But can you tell me how long this sort of thing's been going on?"

"There's always something weird happening at Arkham," Ethan said. "It was that way when I was here a couple years ago, too. I thought maybe things would be better when I came this time and there was a new head psychiatrist, but . . ." He sighed and shook his head.

Bruce's frown deepened. ". . . Tell me, Ethan. Did you have any interaction with Edward Nygma when he was in here? Or did he know just how bad things are?"

"I didn't see him much, no," Ethan said. "He wasn't in here too long either time I was. And I don't think he knew a whole lot about stuff. I heard the head psychiatrist lady saying once that out of everybody here, he was one of the most dangerous to her work because he was both smart and sane. She said that was why he couldn't know anything at that point, even by being a victim. She also said he didn't really belong in Arkham. Then she started ranting some creepy thing about how that made him one of the most fascinating in the place and she'd love to have the chance to break him."

Bruce stared. "How did you happen to hear something like that?"

"I was just leaving after a session with her and her phone rang," Ethan said. "I could still hear her down the hall and I just had to stop and listen for a minute. But I got dragged away by a guard right after that. If he heard what she was saying, he didn't care."

Bruce's stomach turned. "And you don't have any idea who she was talking to?"

"No idea," Ethan sighed. "It could've been someone she knew on the outside or someone else on the staff here."

"Does anyone else on the staff act . . . weird?" Bruce asked.

Ethan looked worried. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but I'm really afraid if I say anything more, I could cause someone else here to get hurt. That's how they punish the people who still care about other people—they torture somebody else instead of the whistle-blower."

"You think they're listening now?" Bruce looked around the room.

"I'm sure of it," Ethan said. "They've got listening devices everywhere."

"Okay. Fair enough. We won't talk about it anymore," Bruce assured him.

Ethan relaxed. "Thanks, Bruce."

"No problem," Bruce said.

They talked for a few minutes more on other subjects before the guard opened the door and barked that the time was up. Reluctantly they stood to part ways.

"Thanks for coming, old buddy," Ethan said. "It's always great to see someone from the outside in here."

"You'll be on the outside soon," Bruce smiled. "Just think about that."

"Ohh boy, I do," Ethan said.

Bruce's mind was swirling as he headed up the corridor towards the front office. On the one hand he was glad to know that Nygma had very likely told him and Yin all that he knew about head psychiatrist Dr. Portman's experiments—which had mostly been suspicion with a few facts scattered in. Bruce was still unsure whether to give his full trust to the crafty character, so it helped to know that he likely hadn't been holding back information.

Another thing Nygma had mentioned was that he was quite sure a member of the staff had started conducting strange experiments. Two or three times he had witnessed inmates being escorted down the hall after certain mysterious treatments. In each case, they had been babbling about something horrifying they had supposedly experienced. One had claimed to have been covered in cockroaches. Another had insisted he had been stabbed repeatedly, yet hadn't had a mark on him.

Both the police and Bruce had tried to investigate Arkham following Nygma's tales, but it had been difficult to do so without possibly endangering him as the only one who could have made authorities aware of things. A surprise inspection had turned up nothing. Commissioner Gordon had since arranged for an undercover officer to start work as a nurse's aide, but so far she also hadn't learned anything.

Bruce clenched a fist. If only there was more that could be done! Clearly something was very wrong. Ethan had told him plenty. Bruce just hoped that it hadn't been enough to warrant someone else being tortured as Ethan's punishment.

"Oh, excuse me."

He looked up with a start, just in time to avoid colliding with a lanky, bespectacled man carting an armload of file folders. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, quickly stepping to the side. "I'm sorry for getting in your way. Need some help?"

"I've got it." The other man peered at him. "You're Bruce Wayne, aren't you?"

"That's right," Bruce said. "I was just visiting my friend Ethan Bennett."

"You're Mr. Bennett's friend?" The staff member perked up. "Out of everyone here, he's been making the greatest amount of progress."

"You don't know how happy it makes me to hear that," Bruce said.

"I'm sure. I've read Mr. Bennett's case file. He has quite a history with us . . . and with you."

"He's been through a lot," Bruce said.

"You won't get any arguments from me on that." The staff member looked impressed. "He has a strong will, to come back to himself after falling so far."

"That's Ethan for you," Bruce smiled. "He always gets back up again."

"Now if only more of the patients could follow his example. Some of them can't get back up. Some of them don't want to. Some are even . . . afraid to." The stranger's eyes flickered for a brief moment.

"Afraid to?" Bruce repeated. "Why? Are they concerned about being accepted in society again?"

"Some, yes. Others are more worried that they've grown so used to being criminals that they won't be able to stop."

"And the Arkham staff works hard to help them overcome these feelings, of course," Bruce prompted.

"Naturally. The staff only wants the very best for the patients. But some just keep falling no matter what we do."

As if on cue, several files started to slip.

"Uh oh." Bruce reached to help stop their descent. "I shouldn't keep you. You'd better get these to wherever you're taking them."

"Yes, I'd better. I'm Dr. Jonathan Crane, by the way."

"Good to meet you, Dr. Crane," Bruce smiled.

"Hopefully we'll get a chance to talk more later, when I'm not loaded down with files. You'll excuse me." Dr. Crane hurried down the hall and turned a corner.

Bruce watched him go and then continued to the front desk. He was pleasant enough, but after what Nygma and Ethan had told about Dr. Portman and others, Bruce was going to be suspicious of any Arkham staff members. There was no telling which ones were snakes in the grass.

His phone rang as he was stepping out of the building and heading back towards his car. "Hey, Alfred," he greeted. "What's up?"

"Nothing other than pumpkin-carving and the first of Gotham's little monsters arriving at the door," Alfred replied. "Will you be home soon, Sir?"

"I'm on my way now," Bruce told him. "Halloween's always a busy night."

"Yes, I know. For you-know-who as well as for Bruce Wayne. But I do hope there won't be anything too serious this year," Alfred bemoaned.

"Well, at least this year isn't Grundy's Night," Bruce said cheerfully. "And Dracula's been defeated. What else could go wrong?"

"Master Bruce," Alfred said in all seriousness, "that is something you should never ask."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: Yin's costume is an in-joke because of her voice actress. And to the **_**New Batman Adventures **_**animators who thought that a scarecrow costume couldn't be scary, after seeing the unused character design for **_**The Batman**_**'s version of the character, I definitely disagree. If that had ever made it into the show, it would have been very scary indeed.**

**Chapter Two**

The Riddler mostly remained deep in thought while he waited for Yin to return. Real or imagined, being attacked by his father again was not something he could get over so easily. It had deeply shaken him and was dredging up memories of that horrible day in his childhood.

"_You little brat! There's no way those scores are really yours. You know I bombed out of high school. You cheated, didn't you?! You __**cheated!**__"_

"_No! No, Dad, I'm telling the truth. Just because you couldn't make it in school doesn't mean I can't!"_

"_And if you didn't cheat, you're too smart for your own good. Why aren't you ever interested in anything else, huh? You know having to drop out of playing baseball after your mother died was the worst thing for me. You were supposed to take up my mantel and play!"_

"_Mom dying should have been the worst thing for you! What good is baseball? All you do is hit a ball around a diamond. That's so boring!"_

The memory of the bat suddenly striking him to the floor made him flinch in the present. For a long moment he had just sprawled there, looking up at his father in hurt disbelief. Or at least it had seemed like a long moment. In actuality it couldn't have been more than several seconds, because the assault didn't let up. The man had completely lost his temper, hitting his son over and over and ignoring his frightened, pained screams. He hadn't stopped until the boy had lain still on the floor, no longer screaming.

The Riddler shuddered, turning away. The experience had been so horrible that he had blocked it out until earlier this year, when ending up in a second coma had brought back the buried memories of the first. He remembered being confused as a child as to why he was going to live with his uncle for a while after waking up in the hospital. But he had welcomed the change, as his uncle had always been kind and understanding, and he hadn't liked going back with his father later.

If his father really hadn't been here today, what on Earth would have prompted him to imagine the attack? _Had_ he been drugged?

He paused. What had happened to him was similar to what he had witnessed two or three times in Arkham. But he wasn't in Arkham. How could it be the same thing?

Nothing was making much sense right now.

The sound of the door opening brought his attention up. Yin was stepping into the room. "Riddler?" Her hair was down, falling around her shoulders. She was still wearing red, but now it was some sort of Chinese robe.

He smiled and got up. "You found something, I see."

"It's Mulan. From the Disney movie," Yin replied. She raised an eyebrow at his get-up. "I had a feeling you might do _that._"

He smirked. "The business suit is more professional for my current career, but sometimes I miss wearing this."

"That doesn't surprise me." Yin came over to him, studying the green jumpsuit and the strange strips of sleeves that only covered one side each of his arms before ending in cut question mark patterns on the backs of his hands. "What _does_ surprise me is how you manage to get that to hold in place."

"And that," he replied as he took up his cane and headed for the door, "will be one of my little secrets."

Yin went with him. "I wonder what the hostess will think when I show up with the Riddler."

"I'm curious to know if they'll realize I'm the genuine article and not just a poser in costume," he said.

"After the way we've been making the headlines lately, I'd say there's a pretty good chance that they'll at least suspect you're the real thing." Yin waited while he locked the office, then led him to her car. Soon they were inside and Yin was pulling away from the curb.

"So where is this party?" the Riddler asked. They reached the corner and Yin stopped as several costumed children and a chaperone hurried across the street.

"Not too far from where I live," Yin said. "It's another apartment complex. A little fancier than mine, though."

"Hmm. Interesting." The Riddler paused. "You say you already tried several other people before coming to me in desperation?"

Yin rolled her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't say I was desperate. But yes."

"I wouldn't think you'd have any trouble finding someone to accompany you."

"I probably wouldn't have, if Ethan was still on the force. Or available at all. Everyone else already had plans or wasn't interested." Yin smiled a bit. "Ethan would have been happy to be invited. And he probably would've had fun dressing up, too."

He nodded. "I can't imagine how difficult it must have been for you when he went insane from the Joker's torture and those chemicals."

Yin gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. "You get awfully close to someone when you work with them every day. Then suddenly he was torn away so tragically, so needlessly, and even though Bruce Wayne and I tried so hard to bring him back to himself, we couldn't do it."

Behind the mask, the Riddler's eyes flickered at the mention of Bruce Wayne. He had learned Bruce's secret, although it wasn't something he would reveal to anyone, even Yin. But he wouldn't be surprised if she figured it out herself someday, if she really put her mind to it as he had.

"He was very troubled the first time I saw him in Arkham," he said instead. "The second time, he was doing much better."

Yin smiled. "He is. I'm still hoping and praying that this time I'm not getting my hopes up in vain, but I really think he's going to pull through."

"And then he'll be around to attend parties with you."

"Maybe. It could be a while before he'll feel that confident." But then Yin stiffened, realizing what might really be behind that remark. "It's not that you're a temporary replacement until then," she tried to assure him. "And it's not that I wanted the other people I asked tonight to go with me more than I wanted you to come. I'm probably closer to you than I am to most of them, as weird as that sounds. We mostly do shop talk or superficial things, unlike some of the talks you and I have had. I just honestly didn't even think you'd be interested in something like this."

"Ordinarily I probably wouldn't be," the Riddler answered. "But it's nice to feel wanted." He smirked. "And it'll be fun to really be the Riddler again, if only for a few hours."

"Just as long as you don't decide to challenge all the guests to an obstacle course of riddles," Yin said with a half-smirk in return.

"That's not a bad idea," the Riddler said. "It would certainly be more stimulating than bobbing for apples or playing Pin the Arm on Frankenstein's Monster."

Yin had to laugh in spite of herself. "I don't know what's planned," she said. "Dinner will be served. And kids will probably still be coming around, so someone will need to answer the door to them."

"In some parts of the country, the trick-or-treating stops as early as eight," the Riddler said. "But here in Gotham, an often dangerous city, it can go on way into the night."

"Crazy, isn't it?" Yin remarked. "I guess The Batman will be out tonight to try to make sure they stay safe."

"Most likely."

"Hopefully there won't be any actual crises for him to deal with," Yin mused. She didn't want to bring it up when she was trying to keep the Riddler's mind off of it, but she couldn't help worrying that with the possible attack on him, there could be some nutcase wandering around Gotham trying to do the same thing to others. She had told the police on duty to be alert for anyone carrying strange-smelling objects or drugs, but she wasn't sure how seriously they had taken her.

"There's usually something," the Riddler said.

"I know," Yin said as she turned a corner. "I guess that's probably at least some of why he became The Batman."

xxxx

Bruce was in fairly good spirits when he arrived home. "Hi, Alfred," he greeted as he came through the front door and found Alfred hovering near the candy bowl. "What are the costumes like this year?"

Alfred looked pleased. "So far, I've counted two Batmen and one each of Robin and Batgirl."

"Cool," Bruce said.

"And of course, the usual parade of miniature Gotham supervillains," Alfred sighed. "This year I even saw a Riddler."

"Just what he needs—a reason for his ego to get even bigger," Bruce said, shaking his head.

"Master Dick is off at some party with his school friends," Alfred continued. "It's supposed to be an overnight adventure. So it's just the two of us tonight, Sir."

"Until the Batwave goes off," Bruce said.

"Ah yes. But perhaps we'll get lucky and you'll be able to have a nice, quiet night at home for once."

Bruce shrugged. "It wouldn't seem right if I didn't get to wear my costume tonight," he said. "But like you said, hopefully nothing _too_ weird will happen."

"And exactly what constitutes 'nothing too weird', Master Bruce?" Alfred wondered. "The absence of the Joker attempting to cause all of Gotham's citizens to laugh until they die? Oswald Cobblepot not trying to restore the Cobblepot fortune by helping himself to very expensive treats?"

"Actually, those things _not_ happening would be pretty weird," Bruce mused. "But they're locked up safely in Arkham, so unless they randomly decide to break out tonight, the kids should be pretty safe from them. Although it does seem like Halloween would be the Joker's favorite holiday. Maybe he'll come around anyway."

"Heaven forbid," Alfred groaned.

"Detective Yin called and told me about something strange while I was driving home," Bruce said. "Something about Nygma passing out in front of his office and waking up raving about his father beating him, even though he didn't have a mark on him."

"Oh dear," Alfred frowned. "You don't suppose his sanity is failing him?"

"I don't think so. Neither did Detective Yin. She thought maybe he'd been drugged. I drove around the area, but I couldn't find any trace of any suspicious characters. And Yin and Nygma had already looked and couldn't find anyone then, either."

"Well, that isn't encouraging, but perhaps it's an isolated incident?" Alfred suggested, somewhat hopefully. "I'm afraid we both know Edward Nygma has quite a concourse of nemeses who would be delighted to do whatever they could to make his life miserable."

"I know, Alfred, but there's also the possibility this is the beginning of some new disaster in Gotham." Bruce settled on the couch.

"That is what I'm afraid of," Alfred frowned.

Without warning the Batwave let out its shrill cry. Both Bruce and Alfred jumped a mile.

"Unknown disturbance in a neighborhood several blocks from here," Bruce reported. "I'm on it."

"Very good, Sir," Alfred sighed, just as the doorbell rang. "Coming!" he called, preparing for the next batch of goblins.

xxxx

The last thing Batman was expecting to see as he arrived on the block in question was a group of terrified children clinging to their shaken teenage escort. "What happened here?" Batman frowned.

"I'm really not even sure," the teenager gulped. "Everything smelled funny and then . . ."

"It was awful!" wailed a boy of about eight, gesturing wildly with his skeleton-glove-covered hands. "It was the Horseman from Sleepy Hollow!"

Batman stared. "What?"

"He just galloped up on his black horse and laughed really creepy," the kid continued. "Then he threw a pumpkin!"

"There's no pumpkin," a girl dressed as a princess sniffed. "It was a big awful dragon with real fire breath!" She waved her hands in the same frenetic manner. "It tried to blow all of us away!"

"How did you survive?" Batman asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I thought we were all burned terrible. But then we weren't!"

The youngest, who couldn't have been more than five, shuddered in his panda costume. "It wasn't like that," he said. "It was a big mean grizzly bear. Grrr!" He made claws out of his hands for emphasis.

Batman looked to the teenager. "What did _you_ see?"

"Lord Voldemort," was the gulped reply. "Just like in the movies and everything."

"You can't have all seen something different," Batman said.

"We're not lying!" the girl wailed.

"We really saw stuff!" the skeleton boy insisted.

"It was mean," the panda boy declared.

"Well, where did all of these things go?" Batman frowned. "They couldn't have just disappeared into thin air."

"Voldemort held up his wand and was casting a spell on us," the teenager shuddered. "I shut my eyes real tight and tried to shield the kids. Then when nothing happened and they kept screaming in terror, I opened my eyes and saw he was gone."

"The grizzly tried to eat us and then disappeared," the panda boy said.

"And we told you about the dragon and the Horseman," the girl said.

"So you all got scared and shut your eyes and you don't know where these things went," Batman mused.

"But . . ." The teen looked bewildered. "You're right that we couldn't have all seen different things. Either they were all there or nothing was. So what was it?!"

"I don't know." Batman looked towards the hill that the kids were all facing. "Is that where everything was?"

"Yeah," the group said in unison.

"Then that's where any clues will be." Batman started for the hill. "You kids had better either get to a more populated street or go home."

"We're getting out of here, that's for sure," the teen said.

Batman heard them hurrying up the sidewalk as he continued his march towards the hill. "The grass is flattened down over here," he said to himself as he reached the top. "The marks are close to circular, almost like horses' hooves."

He frowned. Had someone been playing a prank and pretending to be the Horseman? But that wouldn't account for the other strange sights . . . or for the lack of a pumpkin.

The sight of something that didn't quite match with the deep green of the grass gave him pause. He bent down, extracting something long and yellow from amid the blades. "Straw?" He stared at it before quickly slipping it into a test tube for later examination.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice crackled over the communicator. "Have you uncovered the source of the disturbance?"

"No," Batman replied. "Someone was here, riding a horse, but only one of the children saw something like that. Everyone else each saw something different."

"What?! But that's . . ."

"Impossible? I know." Batman surveyed the area from the top of the hill. "Right now, my only clues are indentions in the grass that seem to have been made by the horse's hooves . . . and a piece of straw."

"Straw, Sir? The horse's dinner, perhaps?"

"Perhaps. I'm going to follow the tracks."

". . . Well, do be careful," Alfred said in resignation.

Batman smiled a bit. "Aren't I always?"

"Not always as much as you should be," Alfred scolded.

"That's the risks of being a crime-fighter," Batman shrugged. Taking out a flashlight, he found the path of the horse and began to follow it.

Unfortunately, it ended at the end of the grass. Batman frowned, studying the asphalt. "Gone," he muttered.

Unless, of course, it had ran over the road and continued on the next patch of grass. Batman hurried to the green, which was blanketed by assorted autumn leaves. No further indentions were visible.

Frustrated, Batman straightened and again looked at the street. "If I were a rider on horseback in Gotham City, where would I go?" he wondered. "The whole thing's crazy. If I wanted to be noticed, I'd head for downtown . . . which is where this road goes.

"But _is_ that what our mysterious horseman wanted?"

He turned to head back to the Batmobile. It was his best clue for now. He would head for downtown and stay alert for any strange notifications of a rider on horseback in downtown Gotham.

Then again, when the kids hadn't been able to agree on what they had seen, maybe everyone else would suffer from the same inability.

Still, if a bunch of weird, conflicting reports came in, that would be as good as keeping track of the horseman's trail. It would be hard to miss woolly mammoths, psychotic clowns, giant cockroaches, or whatever else the citizens of Gotham might dream up.

"Could the answer be group hypnosis?" he thought. "But that's supposed to make an entire group see the same thing, not different things."

_Everything smelled funny._

"Wait." He paused on the sidewalk, the realization hitting him. "Yin said that Nygma smelled something strange right before he hallucinated his father attacking him. And now these kids said the same thing. Yin was right—this _must_ be drug-induced. That could cause everyone to see different things. But who would be behind this? And why?!"

He hastened the rest of the way to the Batmobile and leaped in through the opening roof. Whoever was behind this was obviously both extremely dangerous and extremely evil, not even above targeting small children for their sick plot. It had surely been deliberate; no one else had been on that street.

He stepped hard on the gas pedal as he sped in the direction of downtown Gotham.

xxxx

The party had actually been a success. Some guests had realized Yin had brought the real Riddler and not just an imitator, but were willing to give him a chance considering the positive news stories of late. They had found him a fascinating character and had asked him questions on topics ranging from his technology to his costume and his hair. Yin sensed that he didn't always like some of the questions, but he made a conscious effort not to be rude, if for no other reason than that he didn't want to put Yin in a bad spot, and she was grateful.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" she said to him as she and the other guests were trooping out of the apartment complex's doors and heading for their cars.

"I could have done without the person who asked if I'd been a clean-cut boy at first and only decided to grow my hair out when I rebelled and turned to crime," he grunted. "In this day and age, it's supposed to be a lot more socially acceptable to have long hair if you feel like it."

Yin smirked. "It's not like the days when they wouldn't let you in Disneyland if your hair was even just a little shaggy." She sobered. "But I guess some people are still more conventional. Sometimes I have to deal with that sort of thing too, in my line of work."

He nodded. "I wondered. I, on the other hand, have always been perfectly willing to embrace the idea of women in non-traditional roles. Maybe it comes from people having always expected me to conform to their ideas of what I should be. I never accepted that, as you well know. And all the women I've encountered in progressive roles have been very competent and capable. My Riddlewoman has always been useful to me."

"I still took her out pretty easily when I fought your Riddlepeople," Yin said. "But maybe in other circumstances we would have been more evenly matched."

"You are certainly unique among the conflicts they've come up against. I don't think any other single person has ever managed to defeat all of them at once."

"It probably helped that I'd been taking martial arts since I was a kid," Yin smiled.

"That very likely helped," the Riddler agreed.

"Well, anyway," Yin said, coming back to the original topic, "thanks for not making a scene in there. You looked like you wanted to a couple of times."

"I did. And if it had been any other occasion, I probably would have done it."

"I can believe that," Yin said. "You're usually so outspoken."

"So are you, Yinsey," the Riddler answered.

A sudden scream from a departing guest brought their attention sharply up. People were staring at a rider on a black horse who had just entered the parking lot. And as he drew closer, Yin could see why. "What the . . ."

The Riddler gripped his cane. "Well, that's something you don't see every day. A Halloween prank?"

The rider seemed to be dressed like a living scarecrow, going so far as to wear a mask with glowing red eyes and wickedly grinning mouth and sporting wild blond hair and a hat. At least, Yin _hoped _it was a mask. It and his hands resembled the color and texture of a blackened corpse. One sleeve was torn, revealing that it was the same all the way up his arm. A heavy chain wrapped around his upper torso, reminiscent of the chains the dead were sometimes depicted as carrying. He was certainly not portraying a friendly neighborhood scarecrow like the sort sold in craft stores at harvest time. In one hand he carried a scythe, which he swung out at several horrified people. The tip of the weapon clipped one fleeing woman's streaming hair, sending a thick lock to the ground.

"This is no prank," Yin said darkly. "That scythe is for real." She ran forward, pulling her gun out of her purse. "Police officer! You're under arrest!"

As the scarecrow turned his attention towards Yin, the guests continued to scream and scatter. The Riddler regarded them in annoyance. Not one of them had the guts to stand their ground. He clutched his cane. He would stay and fight.

The scarecrow seemed delighted for the face-off with the policewoman. For the moment he ignored the Riddler, caught up in his attention to Yin. _"Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep,"_ he purred,_ "and doesn't know where to find them."_

Yin stared. "You can recite nursery rhymes all you want to when you're in jail. Come down from there, right now!"

Instead, unafraid of the gun, the scarecrow pulled a strange vial out of his tan overalls pocket. He squirted it point-blank at Yin and rode off into the night while she doubled over and coughed, her eyes watering.

The Riddler rushed over, furious about the escape but fully intending to let the character get away for now. What had been done to Yin could be serious. "Yinsey, are you alright?" he called.

Yin looked up blearily, a hand on her throat. For a moment she saw the Riddler coming towards her, genuinely worried. But then he wasn't the Riddler at all. He was changing, morphing, into a deadly behemoth.

"Clayface?!" she choked out.

Clayface laughed—a deep, throaty, merciless sound. "I really had you goin' there, Yin," he sneered. "But a leopard can't change his spots. You should know that."

"No!" Yin cried. "He _has_ changed. And so have you! Ethan . . ."

"I told you before, you'll never see Ethan Bennett again. Actually, you'll never see anybody again. At least, not on the mortal plane. And neither will he." Clayface outstretched a murky arm, depositing a lifeless body on the asphalt.

Yin paled. "Riddler!" She looked from him up to Clayface. "He had better just be unconscious," she snarled.

"He ain't. He's dead. Just like you're gonna be. And I guess I should tell you as the last thing you hear, you were right about him. I killed him when he was trying to keep me from going after you." Clayface's right arm reshaped into a heavy mace, which he brought down right on her.

Yin screamed. Over the sound of her cries and Clayface's cruel words, she could not hear the Riddler—alive and well—calling to her or feel him trying to take hold of her.

"Yin!" he finally yelled, abandoning all playful nicknames. "Yin, hold still and listen to me. I'm alright. Ethan or Clayface or whomever you're seeing isn't even here! _Yin!_"

She pulled away from him, envisioning gooey clay seeping through her fingers and blood running down her face from the mace's attack. She had to fight against Clayface. She had to get away from him and find a way to immobilize him. And she had to see whether the Riddler was truly dead, as Clayface had said, or if there might still be hope for him.

In desperation the Riddler finally grabbed her by the upper arms and shook her. "Ellen!"

That seemed to get through, at least somewhat. "Riddler?" She stopped struggling abruptly, staring at him and perhaps really seeing him now, but the sudden halt made her lose her balance. She slipped, falling against him, and in surprise, he fell backwards to the ground. She landed on top of him, her lips pressed against his.

For a moment they just stared at each other, not quite comprehending the ridiculous situation. But then Yin flamed red and pushed away, kneeling on the ground. "Sorry . . . I'm sorry." She gripped her arms, trembling, still confused and half in her delusion.

The Riddler sat up, worried. "I'll call an ambulance," he told her. There was no telling how much of the drug she had inhaled or what its long-term effects might be.

She shut her eyes. "No, don't. I'll be alright." She shook, her hair falling in front of her face. "I never realized how frightened I've been of Clayface someday coming back." _Or of you being killed. . . ._

The Riddler frowned. "Frightened?" He thought back to his own experience earlier that day. _He had imagined his father attacking him, just like in his childhood. . . ._ "That's it!" he exclaimed. "This madman's drug makes people see their worst fears." His eyes narrowed. "And that _is_ like what was being used in Arkham. It must be; it all makes sense."

"Except why anyone would do something so messed-up," Yin mumbled.

"I still think I should get an ambulance," the Riddler insisted, watching as she continued to shiver. "You may have been sprayed with more of that gas than I was. I didn't have this sort of physical reaction."

"You passed out," Yin replied.

"I thought that was just because my father was beating me unconscious and I reacted accordingly."

"Help me to the car," Yin requested. "I'll put out an APB for Scarecrow and call The Batman to tell him about this. And . . ." She fished in her purse for the keys. "You'd better drive."

The Riddler stood and then reached down, slowly pulling Yin to her feet. She stumbled, but caught herself, and walked towards the car with his help.

"I'm sorry this had to happen," she said. "The evening was going pretty well."

"I think we both knew there might be trouble after what happened to me," the Riddler replied. "It was just a matter of time."

"That's true.

"You know," Yin said after a moment, "that's the first time I've ever kissed anyone who was wearing lipstick." She managed a weak smirk.

He blinked in surprise at the attempt at levity, but then smirked as well. "How was it?"

"Unusual . . . interesting. Not unpleasant." She looked up at him.

He was still smirking. "I aim to please. You're not so bad yourself."

A bit amused and embarrassed both, Yin slid into the passenger side of the car as he helped her with the door. She watched while he retrieved his cane and set it in the back before climbing into the driver's seat.

Suddenly a new thought came to her. "You _do_ have a license, I hope."

"Well, I _had_ a license, before I went to Arkham," he said playfully. Seeing her alarmed expression, he quickly added, "And yes, I've made sure everything is still current. But even if I didn't have a license, I'd still know how to drive."

Yin sighed. "I suppose."

"And right now, it would be less dangerous for me to drive than you." The Riddler started the engine and began to pull out of the parking lot.

As Yin blinked away several dizzy spots in front of her vision, she had to concede to that logic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Yin was silent on the drive after she made the necessary calls and arranged to meet Batman near Deenie's Café in downtown Gotham. The Riddler glanced to her now and then in concern as he drove—being more careful at the wheel than Yin had thought he might be.

"So this fear of yours involved Ethan Bennett reverting to his Clayface persona again," he finally said.

"Yes." Yin stared off into the distance, wondering if he was going to ask about the rest . . . or if she wanted to tell him. Maybe she would rather wait until she had more time to process it. On the other hand, would that be any time soon?

"And I was part of it. I heard you saying something about me." He turned a corner, noting a group of trick-or-treaters on the sidewalk despite the late hour. "Was I behaving as a villain as well?"

"No." It surprised Yin slightly to really stop and think about that. Did that mean that she still feared maybe Ethan wouldn't stay on the right path, but it wasn't really a worry where the Riddler was concerned?

Oddly enough, in reality it did seem like there was a basis for those thoughts. Ethan had failed to reform in the past, while the Riddler seemed to be adjusting very well.

. . . Relatively well, at least, considering his current occupation.

"If you don't want to talk about it, we won't," the Riddler said.

"I don't know _what_ I want," Yin retorted.

She sighed, leaning on the inside of the door. ". . . Clayface killed you," she said at last. "At least, he said you were dead. He said you'd been trying to keep him from coming after me."

"I see." The Riddler fell silent now, processing that information. "So you also fear my death?"

"It seems like it, doesn't it." Yin sat up straight. "I guess if that's true, you dying on the Friday Night Killer case affected me even more than I thought it did."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea it would."

"Neither did I. But I don't blame you for it. Electrocuting yourself and the Chessmaster was probably the only way to stop him under the circumstances. If I blame anyone, I blame myself for not being able to find another way."

"There wasn't another way." The Riddler's voice was firm.

"I know it didn't seem like it." Yin stared into the distance. "I talked with Ethan about it and he told me the same thing."

She fell silent, memories of the rest of their conversation coming back to her.

"_I understand it had to be that way, at least since The Batman and I weren't able to get up there to join the fight. I'm still upset with myself for that. But that isn't the only reason it haunts me, and I don't understand why it's affecting me so strongly. I've lost people on cases before. Other than with you, I was able to accept it and move on."_

"_I don't know, Yin; maybe it has something to do with how much you didn't like the guy? Suddenly you're realizing that maybe he's not as bad as you thought, and you're just starting to try to get used to that when BOOM! He's dead."_

"_. . . Maybe that's it. But how do I get past something like that?"_

"_I guess there's no easy answer. It's probably different for different people. You, Yin, you're real professional and all, but you really care about people, so things like this would hit you harder. That's better than if everything just rolled off your back nice and easy. You wouldn't make a good cop if that happened."_

"_I know, I know. But it's hard, Ethan. I don't want to feel like this, especially since I know there's no way to turn back time and make it better. Riddler's dead. I have to deal with that."_

"_I wish I had more to tell you. I really do. It's really something only you can decide for yourself. That's how it was with me. People trying and trying to give me help just wasn't gonna work if I wasn't ready for their help. And you can't get past the Riddler's death until you're really ready for it. I know you'll work it out, but it might not necessarily happen as soon as you'd like."_

"_That's what I'm afraid of."_

"_. . . So what was he like?"_

"_He was the most arrogant, obnoxious man I have ever met. He could become violent when angered. And he didn't seem to think a lot of most people. The things he did certainly weren't right. But it's strange . . . I don't think he was actually out to hurt anyone, except the people he thought had hurt him. He wasn't like Killer Croc, who doesn't care if thousands of people die when he's looting Gotham. He wasn't like the Joker either, who is just completely insane and twisted beyond belief._

"_With the Riddler, part of him didn't like what he'd become. And he loved deeply, when he loved at all. He still cared about the girl who betrayed him and ruined his reputation at the university. He tried to save her from the Chessmaster._

"_I never thought I'd feel anything but contempt for him. But I came to see him as a real person, someone who still had good in him. I wanted him to have another chance to make a fresh start. I don't think I realized just how much I wanted that until he wasn't around to even be able to try."_

"_It sounds like you got to know him pretty well."_

"_Oh, make no mistake—there's still a lot about him that's a mystery to me. And now it always will be."_

"_I'm sorry, Yin. Real sorry."_

"_Thanks. Me too."_

"Yinsey?"

She started back to the present. "Oh. What?"

"We're here. Are you sure you're alright?" The Riddler was peering at her in concern.

"Yes," Yin said, too quickly to really suit either of them. "I'm fine."

He clearly didn't believe her. But before he could say anything to that effect, Batman knocked on the window and he rolled it down.

"Detective Yin." Yin looked over and Batman scrutinized her. "Are you suffering any aftereffects from the gas?"

"I don't think so," Yin answered. _Not unless dredging up painful past memories is an aftereffect._

"You only told me the briefest summary of what happened," Batman said. "Are you up to talking about it in more detail? I need to get a clear picture of this madman."

"I'd be happy to fill in all the blanks for you, Batman," the Riddler said. "But you were already given a detailed description of the Scarecrow and how he escaped."

"And no one else has reported in with tales of seeing a scarecrow or anything else strange," Batman said.

"Maybe he's called it quits for tonight," Yin suggested. "Ugh, if only this would be the end of it!"

"I'm sure it's just the beginning," Batman answered. "More than likely, he'll be back tomorrow night or another night before long."

"Have you checked the parking lot where he attacked?" Yin asked. "Maybe he left a clue."

"The police are probably already there, but they might have missed something," Batman said. "I'm going there next."

"Well, I don't really know what else we can tell you, Batman," the Riddler said. "Unless Yinsey didn't mention the conclusion we came to."

"What conclusion was that?" Batman asked, sharply.

"That whatever Scarecrow's using causes people to see their deepest fears," Yin said. "Riddler saw his father attacking him and I saw . . . something that seriously upset me." She looked down, realizing that she didn't want to discuss it with Batman. Bruce Wayne, maybe—at least the part about Clayface, since he felt the same pain and concern over Ethan that she did.

Batman narrowed his eyes. "I was starting to come to the same conclusion after talking with a group of children he attacked earlier."

"What?!" Yin jerked, staring at him in shock. "He went after _kids?_"

"Yes. This is a man without conscience." Batman studied her. "Will you be alright?"

"Fine. Just go look for clues," Yin encouraged. "I want to see this guy stopped before one more person suffers because of him."

"So do I." Batman turned away. "And someone needs to get word to the inside girl at Arkham Asylum and let her know how urgent it is that she find out what's happening there. The person responsible must be on the staff, since it's the same sort of thing that you saw happening there, Nygma."

"I know," the Riddler replied, leaning on the steering wheel.

Batman turned back. "Can you think of anyone on the staff who might be more likely than others to be behind a scheme like this?"

"Honestly, Batman, they're all capable of it," the Riddler sneered. "Arkham is a place for lunatics, and the staff is as insane as some of the inmates. They see Arkham Asylum as the ideal breeding ground for their experiments. After all, most of the inmates don't have anyone to care about them and make trouble should something permanently go amiss."

That was not the answer Batman wanted to hear. But unfortunately, he supposed it was quite accurate.

"What are you going to do now?" he asked.

"Go home, probably," Yin quickly interjected before the Riddler could bring up the idea of the hospital.

"Do you think you should?" Batman looked from her to the Riddler.

"I'm alright. Really," Yin insisted. "Just a little shaken up. And that's better solved at home."

Finally Batman nodded. "If you start feeling strange, don't hesitate to get help," he instructed. "Remember, we don't know what this fear gas could cause in addition to the hallucinations."

"My thoughts exactly," the Riddler said.

"It's been hours, and you seem to be doing okay," Yin said. "You two really don't have to dote over me."

"Oh, but Yinsey, it's just how we show we care," the Riddler purred.

Batman hid an amused smirk. In the next moment he had vanished into the night.

"I still wonder how he does that," Yin muttered.

The Riddler glanced to her. "Home, then?"

"Yeah." She leaned back in the seat. "And if Batman doesn't catch this guy tonight, tomorrow I'm going to go through the information we've got on every Arkham staff member. He's going down."

"I want a part of this too," the Riddler said. "I was his first victim outside of Arkham."

"Fine. You'll probably hack into Arkham's computer mainframe if I say No."

"I might do that anyway," the Riddler grinned. "Arkham has more information on the staff than the police does. There's some things they keep quiet."

Yin sighed and shook her head. "Riddler . . ." She massaged her forehead.

"Sometimes staying entirely within the law does very little towards accomplishing anything. And while The Batman might disagree with me on some of my methods, he would at least agree on that. He wouldn't have taken up crime-fighting otherwise."

"I don't always agree with his methods either," Yin said. "Remember, I'm from a very by-the-book environment."

"I wouldn't forget _that,_" the Riddler replied.

"My dad was a policeman in Metropolis for over thirty years," Yin said. "He wouldn't understand what I'm doing much better than Chief Rojas does. Consorting with vigilantes and criminals turned unlicensed private investigators? He'd hit the ceiling."

"Uh uh—I'm a consultant," the Riddler corrected.

"We both know what you really are," Yin said with a half-smirk. "I just can't prove it."

"Would you if you could?"

Yin frowned. "That's a loaded question, Riddler."

"But a legitimate one. However, I think I know the answer."

"Then enlighten me," Yin grumbled.

"You worked with The Batman long before Commissioner Gordon came on the scene and changed Gotham P.D.'s policy of chasing bats. It's not hard to believe that you would refrain from reporting me, as long as I seemed to be doing more good than bad. Naturally, the instant that you would come to believe that I am detrimental to Gotham City, you would have me brought to your by-the-book justice."

Yin had to concede to the truth of that analysis. "And would I come to believe that?" she asked.

"I would hope not. But since we've already established that our ideas of justice are not always the same, it _is_ possible." The Riddler pulled in at Yin's apartment building and parked in the space reserved for her.

Yin finally had to give a slight smirk again. Sometimes he _was_ good at reading people. Not that she wanted to admit it right now.

"Well," she said instead, "you'd better not let me catch you on the job, then." She got out. "Thanks for the ride home. But how will you get back? I know it's too far for a walk," she added dryly.

"I'll have some of my Riddlemen bring the van," he replied.

"That sounds logical." She took the car keys as he handed them back to her. "You might as well wait for them inside."

He smiled, removing his cane from the car and stepping back to let Yin lock it up. "I was hoping you'd make that offer."

xxxx

Still tightly locked in Arkham Asylum, Ethan didn't yet know what had been happening on the outside. But as he was being returned to his cell after a session with Dr. Portman, he was stunned when the Penguin came down the corridor from the opposite direction and perked up to see him. As they passed each other, Penguin hissed under his breath, "I've gotta talk to you, Bennett."

"What?" Ethan whispered back in disbelief. "Why?"

"Nevermind why!" Penguin retorted. "Not here. At the next recreation session tomorrow."

"Come on!" a guard snarled, prodding Penguin in the back. "Keep moving. This isn't a Friday night social."

Penguin growled and clenched his fists. "Okay, okay! Easy on the merchandise!"

Ethan stared after the portly inmate as he was led away. "What in the world?" he said under his breath. _What could he have to tell me?_

Neither of them noticed Dr. Crane walking past the corridor and pausing to look.

xxxx

Nothing more happened until Ethan was suddenly awakened from a sound sleep in the middle of the night. Arkham was old and not always soundproof, especially in its ventilation system. And the bone-chilling screams soon awakened everyone up and down Ethan's particular hallway.

"Who _is_ that?" Poison Ivy mumbled from her unbreakable glass cell, which was much like Ethan's. In Arkham, as with some other mental institutions, there were not separate wards for the men and the women.

"That's Penguin," Ethan said, wide awake and sickened. He ran to the door and stared out, desperate to see some sign of the other inmate. But although Penguin's screams were very clear, he was nowhere near their section.

"What're they doin' to him?" Harley Quinn gasped, coming to look out the bars in her door.

"More important is why." Ethan clenched a fist in helplessness. _Why Penguin? Why now? It can't be a coincidence. Somebody knew he knew something._ And Ethan was getting the very worried, sinking feeling that Penguin might be the first fatality of Arkham's new experiments.

"Why?" Poison Ivy was more awake now, and looking at Ethan. "You know something about this, Copper?"

"I've only got suspicions," Ethan said. "Did Penguin talk to any of you recently?"

"Nah. I'd probably slap him silly if he tried," Poison Ivy said.

"He hasn't talked to me," Harley shrugged. "Actually, he don't talk to much of anybody. He mostly keeps to himself 'cause he doesn't wanna be around the looney tunes."

Ethan had to admit, he had never been sure why Penguin had been confined to Arkham. The man wasn't insane.

"What's talking to us have to do with anything?" Poison Ivy frowned. "Did he say something to you?"

"He wanted to talk to me tomorrow," Ethan said. "I think he'd found out something about what's been happening here."

"I don't think he's going to be keeping that appointment," Poison Ivy said flippantly.

"And why tell you, anyway?" Harley frowned.

"Maybe he thought I could do something about it," Ethan said, angrier at himself than ever at his inability to do a thing. He wanted to be out of here, to be _free_ to do something about this! He would be released from Arkham soon, but it wouldn't be in time to save Penguin.

The screams were dying down now. They stopped completely after a final, choked gasp.

Poison Ivy turned away from the door, more shaken than she was willing to admit. "If they could do that to Penguin, any of us could be next." She spun back around. "In fact, that's probably why they made sure we could hear it."

"They made sure _I_ could hear it," Ethan said darkly.

The door opened and one of the guards clomped inside, holding something in his gloved hand. When he stopped by Ethan's cell, he held it up. "You see this, Bennett?"

Ethan stared in horror. "Penguin's monocle," he gasped. A crimson streak slid off the edge and splashed on the stone floor. "Look, what the heck did you do to him?!" He slammed his hands against the glass.

"I didn't do anything to that bloated freak," the guard replied. "And no one else did, either. He did it to himself. You just remember that."

"Hey, that is completely bogus, man!" Ethan exclaimed, furious. "Somebody was torturing him!"

"If he had been playing by the rules, it wouldn't have happened." The guard turned to go.

"There is something seriously wrong going on here," Ethan snarled, not about to be quiet. "We all know about it. And it's gotten a lot worse lately." _Ever since that Portman woman took over from Strange._

"You might think you know about it, but you don't know anything. None of you do." The guard looked warningly at every other inmate in the corridor.

"I don't know anything," Harley gulped. "I promise!"

"Good girl." The guard looked back at Ethan. "And just remember, Bennett—if you try to tell your friends what happened here tonight, someone else around here might have an accident like Cobblepot just did."

Ethan glowered, the outrage bubbling just under the surface. If he could become Clayface again, he could get out of here and get help. The guards wouldn't be able to stop him.

But he had been given the antidote. He was fully human once more.

And right now, the guards had power over him and everyone else in here.

"Just tell me one thing," he said, gritting his teeth. "Is he dead?"

The guard walked off without answering.

"He's either dead or close enough to it," Poison Ivy muttered.

Ethan frowned. Something didn't add up. Obviously _something_ had happened to Penguin; the screams were proof of that. But hearing the screams and then seeing the bloodied monocle seemed too pat. Were they red herrings to make Ethan think that Penguin was dead? Did whoever was behind this think that would make Ethan less likely to so much as mention to Bruce or Yin that Penguin had wanted to talk to him? Had it been a warning to the other inmates who heard the screams, so that they wouldn't poke around and learn the truth, as Penguin must have done?

He slumped back. There wasn't anything he could do about this at the moment, but come morning, he would be looking for any way possible to secretly get a message to the outside. This could not go on indefinitely, with everyone too scared to do anything; it had to be stopped.

Odd, that it would be Penguin, of all people, who would push Ethan into action. In fact, it was odd that he had wanted to talk at all. Of course, Penguin's only motivation would be self-preservation, but still, indirectly he might bring about the rescue of everyone in this crazy place.

xxxx

A backdoor to Arkham slowly creaked open and a shaking, deformed hand gripped the edge. Not receiving any immediate resistance, its owner stumbled out onto the grounds, dizzy and swaying.

"Gotta . . . get out," he mumbled. "Gotta find . . . the way out. . . ."

He looked back at the mental institution, cold and dark against a sky that was growing gray with storm clouds. The lights were on in some of the rooms, most likely the offices, but no one seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to this door.

Actually, that was strange. But then again, everything had been strange from the moment he had been taken for one of the new experiments. He wasn't going to question this too much.

He half-stumbled half-waddled farther away on the grass. It wasn't going to be easy to get over the gate in his condition. He shivered against the chill night air. In his panic to flee, he hadn't stopped to look for his clothes, so he was only in the very thin Arkham uniform. It didn't hold up to autumn temperatures very well. Unlike the bird whose name he had chosen for his moniker, he was not a big fan of the cold.

A sudden breeze wafted an unpleasant scent towards him and he stiffened. He had smelled that for the last several hours, and it was always followed by the worst possible horrors.

He had to get out. . . . He had to get home before everything was gone. . . . And before . . . before . . .

He struggled, pushing himself up on the iron bars, coughing as the smell became stronger. He had to get out. . . .

Blinking back the dizziness that was threatening to overwhelm him, he hauled himself up to the top. He swayed, the shirt catching on the sharp points of the gate. It tore most of the way up as he fell over the other side to the ground. Cursing the increasing chill, he got up and staggered down the hill.

Halfway down, a rock abruptly and rudely got into his path. _"WAK!"_ He went down, turning over and over as he tumbled to the bottom.

For a moment he lay there, stunned. Then, pushing himself up, he scowled as he looked down at the mangled uniform. "Oh great—grass stains!" he complained.

But at least he was farther from Arkham now. He hurried off into the darkness, his heart pounding and the dizziness threatening to envelope him.

At the top of the hill, Dr. Crane frowned as he watched Penguin's flight. "I don't like this, Dr. Portman," he declared. "He knows I'm behind the experiments in fear. If he manages to get to someone in authority, that could be the end of all of this!"

"The purpose of exposing him to the gas long-term was to see what would happen to his mind, was it not?" Dr. Portman replied. "He remembered nothing of the experiments when you completed your session with him. Now we'll see if that will last."

"And if it doesn't?"

"That is the reason why I took the liberty of placing a small device on the back of Mr. Cobblepot's neck," Dr. Portman smiled. "It will sense his thoughts. The moment he starts to reveal the truth, it will kill him."

Dr. Crane started to smirk. "You really are a devious woman."

"You've committed your share of murders, both in the name of revenge and science," Dr. Portman said. "I can't imagine one more will bother you."

"It won't," Dr. Crane said. "As long as the device can't be traced back to us."

"No one is aware such a thing exists," Dr. Portman said. "There isn't anything to compare it to."

"Then by all means, Doctor, let the experiment go on." Dr. Crane gestured as he turned to head back inside.

"I knew you would see things my way, Dr. Crane," Dr. Portman purred under her breath. "And as long as that continues, you are useful to me."

xxxx

Batman stayed alert as he drove around the darkened streets of Gotham, looking for any signs of gassed people or a living scarecrow. But as far as he could see, Halloween night had settled down without anything else going bump.

"Master Bruce?" The communicator crackled with Alfred's voice. "Have you almost completed your sweep of Gotham?"

"Yeah. It looks like Scarecrow has gone back to his cornfield for tonight. How's everything there?"

"The last of the treat-seekers was here over an hour ago. I do believe everyone is closing up shop for another year."

"And The Batman is just about ready to close up shop for another night," Batman said. "Wait. . . ." He squinted. Was that something on the walkway of that dilapidated mansion?

"Sir?" Alfred had that sinking tone to his voice.

"Just a minute, Alfred." Batman pulled over to the curb. "Something's going on at Cobblepot Manor."

"Oh dear. Vandals, perhaps?"

"No. A beached Penguin." Batman got out, going through the swinging gate and over to the escaped criminal sprawled on the walkway. "Something's wrong with him."

"If you'll permit me, Sir, it would be far stranger if something were _right_ with him."

"Maybe so," Batman deadpanned, "but this is more wrong than usual. He's lying, presumably unconscious, on the walkway, still dressed like an Arkham inmate."

"Oh, I see. That _is_ odd. Is he badly hurt?"

"I'm not sure. Hang on."

As Batman bent down to examine Penguin for signs of life, a shrill cry split the night and Penguin jerked away. "Stay away from me! Stay away!"

Batman jumped back. "Penguin, what happened?" he demanded. "Why aren't you in Arkham?"

"Arkham?" Penguin fought to get up, but couldn't. "No, I'm not going back there! You can't make me!"

Batman stared into Penguin's glazed eyes. "Did someone hurt you at Arkham?"

"Hurt . . . me?" Penguin blinked and looked honestly confused before an expression of utter panic crossed his features. "I've gotta protect the Cobblepot fortune before Bruce Wayne steals it all! He sicced Jeeves on me and said he was gonna make me serve him forever more! Now stand aside, Batman!" Again he tried to stand. This time he succeeded, but promptly collapsed. In despair he started to sob.

". . . Sir, did I just hear what I thought I heard?" Alfred exclaimed in disbelief.

"Yeah. Count Penguin in as the first known Arkham inmate affected by this fear gas." Batman studied the hysterical criminal. "But I think he's had a worse dose than the others. He can't even stand."

"Oh dear. What are we going to do?"

"I can't take him back to Arkham. That's obvious. Alfred, there's only one thing we _can_ do."

A heavy, cringing sigh. "I'll prepare one of the cells in the Batcave straight away," Alfred promised.

"Thanks, Alfred." Batman looked back to Penguin, whose tears had not lessened. "This is going to be interesting."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Yin sighed tiredly as she entered her apartment and hung the car keys on the key rack. The Riddler, who had placed his phone call on their way up, followed her in and shut the door after them.

"They should be here within twenty minutes," he announced.

"Good," Yin nodded. Setting her purse on the table near the door, she sank into the couch. It was good to be home after such a bizarre outing. She just hoped that either Scarecrow was being caught at the moment or that she would be able to pick him out from among the Arkham staff tomorrow.

The Riddler came and sat next to her. "I'll let you know if I find any possible candidates before you do," he said.

"Likewise." Yin drifted into silence. It seemed that for the time being, they had talked themselves out. After a moment, however, something new came to her and she gave him a sidelong glance. "You know, I had a long talk with Ethan when I thought you were dead. After the Crossword mess was over, I went back and talked with him again."

"And by then I suppose he already knew that I wasn't very dead," the Riddler said.

"With all the news coverage, he couldn't help but know, even in Arkham," Yin said. "He greeted me by saying he'd heard that you'd got that second chance I wanted for you."

"That must have been interesting."

"It was." She flushed a bit. That hadn't been all that Ethan had said.

"_And you've got your second chance, too."_

"_**My**__ second chance? For what?"_

"_To figure out some more of these mysteries about the dude. Maybe come to like him more."_

Ethan had said it with a slightly mischievous smirk and Yin hadn't taken him very seriously. But she had thought a lot about his words since then.

"I suppose he wondered how I survived."

Yin started back to the present. "He did. I didn't tell him about your machine; I just said I wasn't sure how you did it, which is true." She folded her arms. "You told me more or less, but not the details of how it worked."

"I told you more than I told anyone else," the Riddler informed her. "Not even The Batman knows about the machine."

"And you probably wouldn't have told me if I hadn't pressed you about it," Yin said.

"It isn't the sort of the thing I want to get around," the Riddler said. "I'm proud of my genius and my inventions, but that one rarely worked. And at the mere sound of something that can revive the dead, people tend to become a wild stampede. I didn't need that, especially when it likely wouldn't have helped most people anyway. Naturally, if it would have worked more, I would have been only too happy to introduce it."

"I understand." Yin paused. "I've often wondered, what was your reason for inventing those external hard drives for the human brain? I mean, was it just something exciting and challenging for you, something that had never been done before, and you were proud to be the one to come up with it? Or was it that you wanted to make something that would help people?"

The Riddler hesitated. "Now _that,_" he said flatly, "is a loaded question."

"It's that difficult to determine your motivation?" Yin asked.

"No; it's that difficult to separate one from the other. I was proud to be on the cutting-edge of technology and inventing something that would change the way people thought. Julie was caught up in dreams of grandeur, while I was busy thinking of the practical uses and how the discs could be used in everyday life. I was excited about that, and also about the fact that it was my idea. _Mine._ I was alright with Julie sharing the credit; she had helped the invention along, after all, and I trusted and valued her. But I absolutely wasn't alright with Gorman butting in. I knew a shady businessman like he was would find a way to take the lion's share of the profits, and more importantly, the recognition, and I wasn't willing to let that happen."

"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you," Yin said quietly. "But you know, if you wanted, you could become an inventor now. There wouldn't be any Julie to betray you or Gorman to buy into it. And if he tried, you could certainly keep him from it."

"I've considered all that. I do still invent things on the side, for my own personal use." He smirked. "Maybe someday you'll see the application of some of them. Of course, you'd probably have to see me on the job."

Yin smirked too. "Considering how often we run into each other, and the number of strange cases we're involved with, I won't be surprised if it happens. So if you've been doing anything on your cases that your friendly neighborhood police detective would frown on, you might want to consider changing your methods."

"Oh, now you haven't heard of anyone being killed in some sort of clue-ridden deathtrap, have you?" the Riddler purred.

"No, but I have started to hear about more than one trembling criminal who was shaken to the core by playing and losing a battle of wits against a mysterious opponent. It didn't take too much thinking to figure out what happened." Yin turned to face him more, poking him in the chest. "Or who they were up against."

"Really now. And I thought I was being so careful." He looked entertained. "And just who were these trembling criminals?"

"As if you don't know." Yin leaned back. "Murderers, mostly. A blackmailer, a kidnapper . . ."

"And they all survived to stand trial in your by-the-book justice system."

Yin paused, a new thought suddenly coming to her. "Riddler . . . were you really going to kill Gorman in that death maze you put him through?"

The Riddler froze, as though caught in a lie. But he swiftly recovered, smiling in a secretive way. "Wasn't I? I thought I was very convincing. Although I suppose it's possible that I was instead scaring him with the mere threat of the possibility." His voice lowered. "He ruined me. Maybe I wanted him alive to suffer what I had suffered."

"Was that the case on the ship, too?"

". . . Good question. It doesn't seem like he would have survived all those crates exploding around him."

Yin propped herself up on the back of the couch with an elbow. "I've been learning how you talk in riddles," she said. "I should, after all this time. You haven't admitted it was the plan to kill him even then."

"Maybe I wanted his last living sight to be the destruction of the Bio Discs he stole from me."

"Or maybe you wanted him alive to suffer the ruination that would follow the destruction of those Bio Discs." Yin watched him carefully. "That would be more like an eye for an eye."

"It would, wouldn't it." He looked back. "How long have you known about these trembling criminals?"

"A couple of weeks. And all in all . . ." Yin shook her head. "I can't say I approve of your methods for getting them off your clients' backs and ready for arrest, but I imagine some people would say you're noble for not letting them run free. And I guess I have to give you credit for leaving them alive. More and more I'm thinking that no one could ever know all of the mysteries about you."

"Good."

Yin regarded him curiously. "Is that really what you want? I know what you said about a riddle that everyone knows the answer to being worthless. But you're a person, not something inanimate and intangible like a riddle. People like to be understood."

"No one understands anyone _completely_. What fun would there be in life if you knew everything there is to know about someone?" He smirked, then sobered. "But . . . a little understanding goes a long way."

Yin nodded, picking up on the silent message. "Okay then," she said.

The knock at the door startled them both. "That must be my men," the Riddler said.

"I'll make sure." Yin got up and went to the door, looking through the peephole. Recognizing the two Riddlemen standing there, she undid the chains and opened the door.

"Tell me, Yinsey," the Riddler said as he stood, taking his cane, "does all that protection on the door keep out the criminal element?"

"Most of the time," Yin said. "Joker broke the door in once."

"Ah yes, I heard about that." He slung his cane over one shoulder.

"Remember, whichever of us learns something about Scarecrow first contacts the other," Yin said.

"Oh, I'll remember," he said. "Just don't forget that it goes both ways. Goodnight." With that he strolled into the hall. The Riddlemen nodded to Yin and followed.

Yin sighed, shaking her head as she shut and locked the door. "What a weird night," she said to the empty room. Then, smiling a bit in spite of herself, she passed through the living room on her way to prepare for bed.

xxxx

The rest of the night passed without further Scarecrow incidents. But across town, under the hill occupied by Wayne Manor, all was certainly not peaceful and calm as morning dawned.

"_NO!"_ Penguin wailed from behind Batcave bars. _"No, I'm not gonna polish the silverware! No more silverware! Polish it yourself, Jeeves! I'm still a Cobblepot. I've got my dignity and pride!"_

The sound echoed throughout the cave, scaring the bats that often nested near the ceiling.

On the ground, Alfred winced. "He certainly is in a state. Dignity indeed!"

"It's been at least six hours and the gas hasn't worn off yet." Bruce typed furiously at the computer. "I haven't been able to determine any of what's wrong with him. I need a sample of the gas before I can really figure out what's in it."

"Actually, I suppose we're only assuming Cobblepot was gassed at Arkham," Alfred said. "He could have escaped and then become one of this Scarecrow's victims outside."

"Unlikely. Penguin would never walk around dressed like an inmate if he could help it. It's more likely that it happened at Arkham and he escaped afterwards. But with everyone else, they were sprayed once, briefly, and the gas wore off in a few minutes. I hate to think how long they were dousing him with it for it to still be affecting him."

"How very ghastly," Alfred proclaimed in horror.

"No kidding. And they haven't even reported Penguin missing yet. Either they really don't know he's gone, which I doubt, or they wanted him to get away."

"Why on Earth would they want that?" Alfred exclaimed.

"I wish I knew. It couldn't be for any good reason." Sighing, Bruce stood and began to remove the cape and cowl.

"To bed now, Sir?" Alfred asked hopefully.

"Maybe later. If it happened at Arkham, it's just possible Ethan might know something about it." Bruce began draping the Batman suit in its special place.

Alfred came over, resting his hand on the wall. "If it happened at Arkham, chances are no one got any sleep until Cobblepot made his break," he said. "Ethan Bennett is very likely still asleep. It's barely dawn!"

Bruce blinked. "It is?"

"And that is why you are going to go upstairs and have some sleep yourself before you do any more investigating on this case," Alfred said, gently steering Bruce towards the elevator.

"Okay, Alfred, you win. But . . ." Bruce frowned, looking back in the direction of the cells. "I don't like the thought of leaving Penguin down here unattended. And you need sleep too."

"Poppycock. I've gone without sleep for far longer periods of time," Alfred insisted. "Go up to bed, Master Bruce. I will stay and observe our Penguin in his gilded cage."

Bruce smiled in a bit of amusement. "Just don't get too close unless it's an absolute emergency," he cautioned. "We don't want Penguin recognizing you as the Wayne family butler."

"In his condition, he would probably think I was part of his delusion," Alfred said. "But of course you're right, Sir. I won't let him see me."

"Good." Bruce pressed the Up button for the elevator and stepped inside. "Goodnight, Alfred. Although I guess it's Good Morning now."

"Goodnight will do," Alfred said. "Goodnight, Master Bruce, and I do hope you will sleep well."

"I'm sure I will, Alfred." Bruce started to step into the elevator, but froze upon hearing another wail from Penguin.

"And I'm sure Mr. Cobblepot _won't,_" Alfred sighed. "How typical, that his worst nightmare is being a servant!"

"I wonder if he remembers when Dracula brainwashed him into being _his_ servant," Bruce mused.

"I should almost like to remind him, if he doesn't," Alfred said. "But I suppose that would be too cruel even for him, in his current state."

Bruce smiled. "Night, Alfred," he said. The elevator doors closed.

For a moment Alfred gazed at them, lost in thought. But at the next cry from Penguin, he jumped a mile.

"I already set the table twice! For a hundred people both times! What more do you want?!"

"Too cruel indeed," Alfred muttered.

xxxx

Yin was surprised by how well she slept, considering everything that had happened the night before. But she still woke up sooner than she might have otherwise. Deciding to take it as a reason to get back on the case instead of trying to go back to sleep, she dressed and had a bagel on the run as she headed out for work.

Since Arkham was an institution for the criminally insane, the police had tried to investigate every member of the staff. Yin imagined the Riddler was right, that Arkham kept some information back, but she continued to hope that the police files would at least net a good clue.

An hour later she wasn't any closer to learning the identity of the person on the staff who was apparently obsessed with fear. But as she was studying the file of one of Arkham's doctors, something else curious suddenly jumped out at her.

"A former professor at Gotham University," she read aloud. And judging from the time frame, he had been there at the same time that the Riddler had been a student. That bore investigating. She got up, the folder under her arm. Hopefully the Riddler would remember this person and something about him.

Chief Rojas abruptly appeared in her path. "Just a minute, Yin," he said gruffly. "Where are you taking that police department property?"

"I was just going to make a copy of the picture to show someone," Yin replied. "He might be able to tell me something more about this man."

"Oh yeah? What's so great about him?" Rojas peered at the folder. "Do you think he's the one behind all the spooky stuff last night?"

"I have no idea. That's why I want to know more about him. Since I already know someone who might know him, it seems the logical place to start."

Rojas didn't budge. "This wouldn't be that Riddler character, would it?"

Yin frowned. "Would it matter if it is?"

Rojas didn't look pleased. "I don't know what's got into you lately, Yin. First you were running around with The Batman, and that was bad enough. Now it's the Riddler."

Yin's lips pressed into a thin line. "You know, Chief, he _did_ directly save us from disasters—twice. At the risk of his life both times. But I guess that wouldn't make much difference to you; it never did with The Batman, either."

"I still say there wouldn't have been any of these nutcases if The Batman hadn't brought them out," Rojas said.

Yin didn't really believe that, but she came back, "If that's true, then I guess we have The Batman to thank that Riddler was around to save us recently."

Rojas stared at her, stuttering over his baffled reply.

A bit amused, Yin slipped past him. "See you later, Chief."

This time he didn't try to stop her.

"Batmen . . . Riddlers," he growled instead. "What's this city coming to, when those kinds of people are who protects us?"

xxxx

The Riddler wasn't in the office when Yin walked in. But since the door was unlocked, she was sure he had to be around. On a hunch, she turned the rock paperweight on his desk and crossed to the doorway of the panel as it opened.

As she had thought, the Riddler was in the back room, typing on the keyboard connected to the giant computer screen. "Good morning, Yinsey," he greeted without turning around.

Yin approached him from behind, a hand on her hip. "I could have been someone else, you know."

"You're right—I would have known." Smirking, he pointed upward at a mirror.

Yin shook her head in exasperation. "Okay, Riddler." Deciding to ignore for the moment that he was definitely looking at Arkham's hacked records, she came over closer to the console. "I wanted to pick your brain about something."

"Really? Did you find something worthwhile?" He half-turned in the chair to face her.

"I'm not sure. Do you remember seeing this man before?" She held up the picture of Jonathan Crane.

He took it, studying it in thoughtfulness. "Ah, Dr. Crane. I remember hearing that he joined the Arkham staff."

"That's right." Yin took the picture back as he handed it over.

He leaned back. "He was a psychology professor at the university when I met him. He was nice enough, yet I always had the feeling that there was something . . . not quite right about him. He was angry inside. Sometimes it seemed like he held contempt for the entire human race."

"Are you serious?" Yin sat down on another chair. "What did he say that made you think that?"

"Sometimes it was more the way he spoke, rather than what he said. He could sound so mocking when he was explaining some of the theories about human behavior. I particularly remember him sneering at the ideas of love and loyalty. He strongly implied that he felt love was selfish, only meant to satisfy yourself with the thought that someone cared, or the thought that you were being so righteous if you acted like you loved someone."

"That's disturbing," Yin frowned.

"Not entirely unfounded, but I'll agree that I don't think it's always the case."

"Could he be behind the Scarecrow attacks?" Yin demanded.

"Well, he could certainly be capable of it," the Riddler replied. "As to whether he would actually do it, I couldn't say."

"Why did he leave the university?" Yin asked. "Do you know?"

"Not really. The board never really liked him or the way he taught his class. I always assumed that they finally got fed up. I'll admit I was more on his side in the matter; I wasn't too fond of the board, especially after they refused to believe that I wasn't responsible for the malfunctioning Bio Disc."

Yin studied the photograph, trying to determine if she could picture all that the Riddler was saying as being true about Dr. Crane. Not that a picture would necessarily be very helpful to that end, but she hoped to at least discern something from the eyes. Perhaps there was a flicker of darkness in them. Or perhaps it was her imagination. Either way, it wasn't proof of any of what she was being told.

"Did he ever talk to you?" she wondered. "I mean, aside from class."

The Riddler paused. "It's strange, actually," he said. "I seemed to be . . . well, the teacher's pet, if you will. He seemed to particularly like my answers to his questions. And I remember one time when he took me aside after class and told me we were really two of a kind."

Yin raised an eyebrow. "Why did he think that?"

"He said some strange thing about how we both knew we were better than the majority of the human race, in spite of how they all thought we were inferior. I said I didn't think I was better, just smarter. He said that was the same thing. Well, I suppose it is, but anyway. . . . I asked him what he was talking about, since he seemed to be well-respected by the students. He said his genius wasn't properly appreciated, but someday it would be."

"That sounds like something a mad scientist would say," Yin said.

"Yes, but as I said, Yinsey, everyone on the staff at Arkham is at least a little bit off-center. I don't doubt that he had some potentially concerning ideas. The question is whether they extended to driving people out of their minds with fear."

"Did he ever talk about fear in class?" Yin queried.

"It was a psychology class," the Riddler said dryly. "Fear is a huge part of psychology."

Yin shook her head. "What I mean is, did he talk about it more than would even be expected? Did he dwell on it? Maybe seem excited by it?"

He paused to think. "I do remember one time when he described an experiment some scientists in Europe performed to determine the types of things people feared more often than anything else. He talked at some length about how fear of things such as snakes, heights, and death were common and then started asking the class about some of the things they feared."

"Were they willing to talk about it?" Yin asked.

"Some were. I wasn't among them."

"That doesn't surprise me," Yin said. "But did Crane try to get an answer from you?"

"No; he said I was wise not to reveal my fears for everyone to hear. After all, I wouldn't know who might be capable of using them against me." He shrugged. "It made sense to me, so I didn't think anything of it."

"He's sounding creepier—and more promising—all the time. Riddler . . ." Yin smirked. "How would you like to take a trip back to Arkham and see if he still remembers you?"

"Only if it's not as a patient," the Riddler said matter-of-factly.

"It would just be a visit," Yin said. "I'd be with you."

"Then let's go," the Riddler grinned. "If Dr. Crane is the Scarecrow, I most certainly want to talk with him." He started to get up.

"Wait a minute." Yin placed a hand on the console. "What have you been learning here?"

"Nothing as interesting as the idea that you and I have just come up with together," the Riddler replied. He tapped on a few keys and the hack to Arkham was broken. "It looks like they keep certain information out of their own files, too. Or maybe just out of the computer copies."

"Maybe they were afraid of a hacker," Yin remarked.

"Hmm. I suppose. The secret Arkham files. Now that would be something interesting to find." The Riddler headed for the door, his cane slung over his shoulder.

"And the sessions Dr. Crane has with the patients," Yin muttered as she followed. "I can just imagine the kinds of things he asks them."

"It could be further evidence against him," the Riddler agreed. "It might be worth looking into."

"And the Portman woman . . . could she be working with him or whoever is Scarecrow?" Yin wondered.

"For that matter, what if Scarecrow is a woman?" the Riddler shrugged. "I know he doesn't look it, but some women have ways of hiding that when they want to."

"I guess. Scarecrow didn't sound like a woman, though," Yin pointed out.

"True," the Riddler conceded. "Although that wouldn't have to be a definite deterrent against the idea, either. Anyway, just suppose Scarecrow is a woman. Portman _could_ be responsible . . . although somehow I got the feeling that she wouldn't go into the field and would be more likely to sit back and watch things unfold."

"I got the same feeling," Yin said.

"I _am_ sure that she's aware of the experiments and encourages them," the Riddler said. "Maybe she even runs the experiments while someone else plays Scarecrow."

Yin made a face. "Could Arkham really be that unlucky—to have three mad scientists working there almost at once, Strange included?"

The Riddler turned back at the door to look at her. "Yinsey, with Arkham, it can never get too unlucky for anything."

He was completely serious now, and Yin felt a chill run up her spine. "What kind of a place is it really?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"Sometimes it's really only a step or two up from the stereotypical asylums of a hundred years ago," the Riddler said. "There isn't any electro-shock therapy, but I wonder if some things aren't just as bad." Not wanting to discuss it further, he turned away and headed outside.

Yin chased after him. "Riddler!" She caught him in front of the car. "I want you to tell me honestly. Is Ethan in any danger, being there?"

The Riddler hesitated. As he turned back to face her, she could see that he wanted to be truthful, yet he didn't want to hurt her. "Everyone's in danger there, really," he said. "But as for Ethan Bennett specifically . . . I haven't wanted to say it, but I've wondered if Hugo Strange could have planted subliminal messages in his mind that led to him being unable to cope with integrating into society in the past. There's no proof of such a thing, and it's completely reasonable that Ethan couldn't have handled the pressure without Strange giving him a push in that direction, but knowing what we know now about Strange, I wouldn't put it past him.

"As far as I'm concerned, Dr. Portman is cut from the same cloth. I don't have any proof of that, either, so make of it what you will."

Yin clenched her teeth. "I wouldn't put it past Strange, that's for sure," she said. Unlocking the car, she went around to the driver's side and got in. "And I'll be keeping a close eye on everyone there when we go. If the entire staff is corrupt, and we can turn up enough evidence on them, it shouldn't be too hard to get a court order to listen to all the Arkham tapes. Then we'd know."

The Riddler got in as well. Ordinarily he might have made a crack about Yin listening to his tapes, but he could tell it wasn't a good time for a joke. So instead he said, "I'm all for bringing down Arkham's staff, Yinsey. I'll help however I can."

Yin finally smiled a bit. "I know you will."

xxxx

_They were coming out of the theatre, laughing, happy, talking about the film they had just seen. It was a lucid dream; he had experienced it so many times and he knew what would happen. Yet it still felt as fresh as if it just had happened._

_This time, as with some past occasions, he descended onto the marquee of the theatre as Batman. He leaped down, trying to make it over in time, trying to stop the unknown mugger before he could come out and pull the trigger . . ._

_A heavy chain swirled out of the darkness, wrapping around him and binding his arms to his sides. He gasped, yelling without any sound coming out, and fought to break free. But even as he tried, the twin gunshots echoed through the landscape of his mind and let him know that once again it was too late._

_A cold, cruel voice started to laugh. The chain pulled tighter. "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall."_

"_Who are you?" Batman choked out. "Why are you doing this?"_

"_All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again." Without warning the chain flew free, releasing him to fall into the sea of crimson pooling from the lifeless bodies of his parents. It spread farther and he splashed, down, down, into an endless lake of blood._

Bruce sat up straight in bed, his eyes wide, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. He breathed heavily. He had to calm down. It had just been a dream.

Yet part of it had been real. Part of it had been his reason for becoming The Batman.

He got up with a groan, brushing his hair aside as he stumbled to the window. This Scarecrow thing was really shaking him up, and he hadn't even personally encountered the madman yet. He had been trying to steel himself against the thought of the fear gas, since he knew Scarecrow was very likely to try to use it on him, but in actual practice he knew it might take him by surprise and he would be affected anyway. And he could easily imagine what sort of images it would dredge up.

"I'll get that for you, Sir."

He turned, looking over as Alfred hurried into the room to open the drapes. But upon really focusing on Bruce's shaken appearance, Alfred stopped and regarded him in concern. "Another bad dream?" Alfred had come in after many such dreams through the years.

"Yeah," Bruce nodded. He sighed to see the overcast day outside. It about matched his mood right now. "How's Penguin?"

"He finally fell asleep ten minutes ago and I dared to go up and check his vitals," Alfred said. "His pulse rate seems to be evening out. Perhaps the gas is wearing off at last. I never thought I'd be glad to hear Oswald Cobblepot being his normal self, but after the last few hours I feel as though I've been in his nightmare right along with him!" He shuddered.

"Sorry for putting you through that, Alfred," Bruce sighed. "Hey, I'd really like to get out to Arkham and talk to Ethan. Maybe by the time I get back, Penguin will be awake."

"Speaking of Arkham and Ethan, The Batman received a message from Detective Yin," Alfred said. "It seems that she and Edward Nygma are going to Arkham to see one of the doctors, a Jonathan Crane. Apparently he was one of Mr. Nygma's teachers at the university."

"Really?" Bruce blinked. "I met Mr. Crane yesterday. He seemed okay, but after what Nygma said, I don't trust any staff members there."

"Nevertheless, are you still going to Arkham when they're already on their way?"

"I think so, Alfred," Bruce said, as Alfred was sure he would. "I can talk to Ethan while they talk to Crane. Maybe together we'll come up with something that will help."

"Will you at least stop for breakfast first?" Alfred said hopefully.

"I don't think so," Bruce said, also as expected. "Well, not unless there's something I can eat on the way."

Alfred smiled. "I believe I can easily whip up something to go."

"Great," Bruce said. "But I'll need to drive myself over, unfortunately. You'll . . ."

"I know." Alfred sighed, heavily. "I must keep watch on Cobblepot."

"I'll make it up to you, Alfred," Bruce said. "I promise."

"Just find out who's behind this and quickly, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "And without getting yourself hurt. That will be more than enough to make these unsettling hours worth it."

"You're on," Bruce smiled as he headed for the shower.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Arkham wasn't a pleasant place in the daytime any more than at night. And it wasn't a spot where former patients liked to visit. As Yin drove over the bridge and showed her badge at the gate, she could sense the Riddler tensing without actually looking at him.

"I know this can't be easy for you," she said, pulling in at the front of the old building.

"It isn't," he admitted. "But I'll deal with it. This needs to be done."

"No arguments there," Yin said. "That doesn't make you any less brave for going through with it, though."

They passed through the front doors and stopped at the desk of another guard, who looked over at the Riddler before either he or Yin could say anything. "Well, Riddler," he leered. "Are you coming back to join us again?"

"You might wish that, but I'm not." He leaned on his cane.

"He's right," Yin said tersely. "We're here to see Dr. Jonathan Crane. I called ahead and found out he's here right now. He agreed to meet with us."

"He is here, but if you're not checking in a new patient, I don't know what Dr. Crane would want with Riddler here," the guard said.

"Why don't you ask Dr. Crane?" the Riddler retorted.

"Is he in his office?" Yin asked, a bit annoyed with the guard.

"I think so," the guard said. "Or with a patient."

"Or right here." The man from Yin's photograph suddenly appeared. "Hi. I'm Dr. Crane."

"Detective Ellen Yin. I spoke to you on the phone." Yin shook his hand. "And I think you know my friend here."

Dr. Crane looked over. "Edward?" He smiled brightly, coming over to shake the Riddler's hand as well. "I heard you were back in town."

"I never really left," the Riddler replied. "Detective Yin informed me that my old psychology teacher now works at Arkham. So we decided to come around and say Hello."

"Well, I'm glad you did." Dr. Crane looked over at the stunned guard. "I'll take over from here."

"W-Whatever you say, Doctor," the guard stammered.

Dr. Crane led his guests down the dimly lit hall. "I know you wouldn't have come here just to say Hello, Edward," he said when the guard was out of earshot. "Especially with the police. What's actually going on?"

"Dr. Crane, I'm sure by now you've heard the news of the Scarecrow who terrorized Gotham last night," Yin said. "Clearly this is a disturbed man. As a professor of psychology, I wondered if you might have any theories on who this man could be or where we might start looking for him."

"I'm also very interested to know," the Riddler said darkly. "I was one of several people he chose to assault. The detective here was another."

Dr. Crane turned, looking to them both in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Yin said. "The effects of his gas don't last long. But it's long enough to make Gotham P.D. very intent on catching him."

"I don't wonder." Dr. Crane opened the door to his office. "Please, come in."

Yin entered first and had to stop and gaze at the walls in shock. Pictures of people suffering from intense bouts of fear, panic, and terror decorated each one. "This really looks like it could be the place," she hissed to the Riddler when he came in after her.

He studied the walls as well, his eyes narrowing behind the mask. "It could be," he agreed. "But I know we're both aware, Detective, that a few eerie pictures on the wall are not proof."

Dr. Crane came in last and shut the door behind him. "You're admiring the gallery, I see," he said. "As a psychology professor, I've studied a great deal in the areas of fear and pain. I decided to immortalize some of my most baffling cases here on the walls."

"I wouldn't say I was _admiring_ your collection," Yin said. "Frankly, Dr. Crane, I'm sure you realize how disturbing this looks in light of the Scarecrow's area of fascination."

Dr. Crane crossed to his desk. "Except that I didn't do anything to cause these unfortunate people's fears," he said. "I was called in to try to help them. The pictures were taken as they acted out their already-existing delusions and hallucinations in my presence." He walked over to a picture of a wild woman with equally matching hair and eyes. She was screaming, clawing at a nonexistent wall in front of her. "This one, for instance, was taken at a mental institution in Metropolis. You can call and speak to anyone on the staff. They'll tell you this woman was behaving like this before I ever got there. She'd been like that for four days."

"That may be," Yin said. "But Mr. Nygma was telling me some interesting things about your psychology classes. Tell us, Professor, are all psychology professors as interested in fear as you are?"

"Some, yes," Dr. Crane said. "You see, Detective Yin, I believe that to really help these people, we have to fully understand what drives them and why. Some of them have unnatural fears. I've chosen to study that, and how to help them in spite of it."

"So your interest is completely noble, then," Yin said.

"Forgive me, Doctor, but I have a very hard time believing that your interest could ever be 'completely noble.'" The Riddler looked to him. "I remember the contempt you showed towards people in general."

"A feeling that I know you share, Edward," Dr. Crane said, leaning forward with an ominous smile and his hands behind his back. Abruptly he straightened, crossing back to his desk. "But nevermind that. Such feelings do not mean that we can't want to strive towards improving the people we live among. Don't you agree, Detective Yin?"

"That may be true for some people," Yin said, "but not everyone. I don't know how you feel personally, Dr. Crane."

"I've just told you." Dr. Crane started to pace. "Yes, it's true that I don't have much respect for many people. But that actually drives me all the more. I want to impart my knowledge to better the human race, so I _will_ respect it more." He stopped by the wall. "Are there any other questions?"

"Yes. Can anyone verify your whereabouts during the time the Scarecrow was rampaging through Gotham?" Yin demanded.

"Everyone on the staff," Dr. Crane replied. "And some of the patients as well. I believe a friend of yours, Mr. Ethan Bennett, saw me right before a session with Dr. Portman. That was at nine o'clock, right in the middle of Scarecrow's 'rampage', as you put it."

Yin raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to speak with Mr. Bennett about that."

"That can easily be arranged." Dr. Crane went back to his desk and pressed a button on his phone. "Have Ethan Bennett brought to my office," he said into the speaker.

"He's with a visitor right now, Doctor," a woman's voice responded. "Mr. Bruce Wayne. He just arrived."

Yin blinked in surprise. "Wayne?" She knew Bruce had planned to stop by yesterday, but two visits in as many days wasn't usual. Had something else happened?

"He probably just wanted to check on Ethan after hearing about Scarecrow," the Riddler said quietly.

"That's true," Yin said. "Only . . . why would he especially think anyone from Arkham would be in danger? We haven't let it get out that experiments have been happening here."

The Riddler didn't answer. He was watching Dr. Crane walk away from the phone. "Mr. Bennett is going to stop in anyway," Dr. Crane reported. "This is more important than a visit, and anyway, it will only take a minute."

"Thank you," Yin said.

In a minute the door opened and a guard escorted Ethan into the room. "Hey, Yin," Ethan greeted with a smile. "So what's up? I heard you needed me for something official."

"Hi, Ethan. Sorry to drag you away from Wayne," Yin said, "but Dr. Crane said you could verify that he was here last night."

"Sure," Ethan blinked.

"Do you remember exactly what time you saw him?" Yin pressed.

Ethan paused, thinking. "It was when I was going to talk to Portman," he said. "It must've been around nine. Yeah." His eyes flickered, as though he was unsatisfied with that answer, but from his puzzlement, he couldn't come up with anything else.

"You're sure, Mr. Bennett," Dr. Crane said.

"I'm sure," Ethan said, firmer now. "It was nine."

"Thanks, Ethan," Yin smiled.

"Any time," Ethan said. "But what's all this about? Is Dr. Crane in trouble?"

"No," Yin said slowly, glancing to the ominous man. "Not now."

Ethan nodded. "That's good then."

"Maybe we'll come down and see you later," Yin said. "We don't want to take away any more of your time with Wayne."

"I'm sure he'd be happy for all of us to visit," Ethan said. He looked to the character with the cane, really taking notice of him for the first time. "Oh wow, you're the Riddler, aren't you?"

"Yes, I still go by that handle," the Riddler smiled.

"Okay, Bennett, let's go," the guard prodded. "You can visit without taking up Dr. Crane's valuable time."

"Okay, okay. I'm coming." Ethan looked back to Yin. "See you later, Yin. Riddler."

Yin nodded, watching the guard lead Ethan away.

"Now," Dr. Crane spoke, "does that clear up any doubt?"

"For the time being," Yin said.

"Good. As for your question on whether I have any theories regarding the Scarecrow's identity, I'm still developing my ideas. But since he dresses up as a scarecrow, rides a horse, and uses farm implements, maybe you should start out by checking farms and ranches in the area. He may be dressing up as a scarecrow because it's something he's familiar with."

Yin raised an eyebrow. "There aren't a whole lot of farms in a bustling metropolitan area."

Dr. Crane shrugged. "He could even be a farmer who moved to the big city. On the other hand, he might not be connected to that lifestyle at all, but simply finds the scarecrow to be a good object of fear."

"That's possible, I guess," Yin acknowledged.

"Let me know when you find him," Dr. Crane said. "I would love to study his psychosis."

"I'm sure you'll get that chance," Yin said. "He belongs in Arkham." She headed for the door. "Goodbye, Dr. Crane, and thank you for your time."

"Goodbye, Detective." Dr. Crane turned to look at the Riddler. "What about you, Edward? Are you going with your friend?"

"I'd planned on it," the Riddler replied. "But if you would like to talk, I'll stay. She'll be visiting with Ethan Bennett for a while. And I have been curious about what you've been up to."

"I think my walls make that apparent," Dr. Crane said. "Meanwhile, I heard that you turned your skills to crime."

"Something like that," the Riddler said, somewhat stiffly. "At the moment I'm a consultant. But tell me—how do you go about trying to heal a mind like that?" He nodded to the picture of the crazed woman and her invisible wall. "It can't be easy."

"It isn't. It's different for each person." Dr. Crane sat down at his desk. "In her case, I had to convince her there wasn't really a wall around her."

"Technically there was," the Riddler said. "Her padded cell."

"Yes, but when she thought there was another wall around her, she couldn't even function at all. Once I could get through to her that she had created that wall in her mind, she could start to heal." Dr. Crane's eyes glimmered. "I found her delusion fascinating. Why would she think a wall was there? It took many sessions of digging into her past before I found the root of her problem—she was repeatedly locked in a closet for punishment as a child."

Pulling himself back to the present, he said, "And what about you, Edward? Do you still not want to share your deepest fears with anyone?"

"I certainly wouldn't do it by choice," the Riddler responded, his voice clipped. "Unfortunately, the Scarecrow dragged at least one of them out of me. And as you told me long ago, now that he knows it, he can use it against me."

Dr. Crane nodded. "That is unfortunate. Of course, maybe all he wants is to _see_ people's fears."

"I don't think either one of us believe that," the Riddler said. "It would only be the first step. The next would be to see what the people would do if they were locked in their worst fears."

Dr. Crane leaned forward. "The gas doesn't seem to last very long. Do you think he'll start using stronger doses?"

"I should really be asking you that," the Riddler retorted.

"It _would _seem a logical next step for him," Dr. Crane said. "Of course, I'll really need more time to study him. He only appeared for the first time last night."

"And I for one wish that would be the only time . . . except for one thing." The Riddler looked hard at Dr. Crane.

"What might that one thing be?" Dr. Crane brought his fingertips together. He looked for all the world like he was being casual, but a gleam of interest was clearly in his eyes.

"By attacking me, and then Detective Yin, he made this personal," the Riddler said darkly. "I want to face him in a fair fight and bring him down."

Dr. Crane looked more intrigued than ever. "You're that angry about the detective being attacked?"

"She _is _my friend," the Riddler retorted. "Or didn't you think I was capable of having any?"

"No, but I know your affection can be misplaced. As I recall, I warned you against that Julie girl when you first became smitten with her."

"Yes. And on that subject, I wish I had listened to you." The Riddler glowered. "But Detective Yin is different."

"That's what they always say. For your sake, I hope you're right."

The Riddler looked away, wanting to get off the topic. "Anyway, regarding Scarecrow. I was with Detective Yin when she was attacked. I couldn't stop it. That bothers me."

"Well." Dr. Crane got up from his desk. "If you do encounter the Scarecrow again, I hope you'll come and tell me all about it."

"Oh, I will. If you don't already know." The Riddler stepped back. "You must be busy. I'll leave you now."

"Visit more often, Edward," Dr. Crane encouraged. "You were always one of my best students. Before you decided technology was your major, I hoped to take you under my wing as my protégé."

"That would have been interesting," the Riddler said. He paused at the doorway. "I was never quite sure why you took such an interest in me."

"Because you have a brain," Dr. Crane smiled. "And because I could sense the darkness stirring in you. A protégé of mine would need to have at least a little darkness."

"I see." The Riddler's stomach turned. If Dr. Crane _was_ Scarecrow, the Riddler did not want to be considered in the same class at all.

Although . . . maybe they _were_ similar in that they both induced fear. The Riddler could not deny that he drew a certain enjoyment from seeing people squirm in his traps. But he didn't target just anyone; in the past it had only been people who had wronged him and people who had fascinated him. Now, it was the criminals he was being hired to protect his clients from. Dr. Crane, if he was Scarecrow, seemed to hate the world and go after everyone at random.

"Why is that?" the Riddler finally asked. "I could see that your protégé would need to not be squeamish, to deal with the types of people you apparently encounter. But what would be the necessity of having darkness in their soul?"

A shrug. "I discovered that some people were not comfortable with my methods."

"And you were sure I would be."

"I thought it was a good possibility, at least."

The Riddler hesitated, leaning on his cane. "You've intrigued me, Doctor. Exactly what _are_ these disturbing methods?"

Dr. Crane smiled. "Come back sometime without your policewoman friend and we'll talk more about it."

"You realize I'm trying to operate closer to the right side of the law now," the Riddler remarked. "If this is something the police wouldn't like, I could end up arrested again. And I have no intention of that happening."

Dr. Crane leaned in close. "You may be trying to be one of the good guys now, Edward, but really, the lines of morality are so blurred, in general and with you in specific. Your darkness is still there. You're still interested."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I'll go along with you. It doesn't mean I ever would have."

"I trust you enough that I want to give you a chance, anyway," Dr. Crane said. "Wouldn't you enjoy working here at Arkham instead of being a patient? Think how you could sneer at all the guards who looked down their noses at you when you were an inmate. You could get back at all of them. Revenge is sweet." Again came the unsettling gleam in his eyes.

". . . I would enjoy staying away from Arkham altogether," the Riddler said, more uneasy than ever. Aside from it being unpleasant to hear a licensed doctor talking like this, the Riddler had never taken revenge on all the petty people who had tormented him through the years. If he had, he would probably still be doing it now. He had only bothered to go after the few who had absolutely ruined him and cut him to the core, such as Julie and Gorman. Well, not that it was wise to do that either, but it made more sense than what Dr. Crane was suggesting.

"Is that your final decision, Edward?" Dr. Crane didn't seem disappointed as much as he seemed knowing. That was uncomfortable too.

The Riddler sighed. "I'll come back and hear you out. Just to give you a sporting chance."

"I knew you would," Dr. Crane smiled.

The Riddler was deeply disturbed as he left the office moments later. He would never align with Dr. Crane in his experiments. Of that he was certain. But he wondered if he might need to pretend to go along with it in order to get to the truth.

Surely he wouldn't be able to fool Dr. Crane for long with such a ruse. But when the man was so blindly convinced that the Riddler would be a perfect apprentice, there was the chance that could be used to the Riddler's—and the police's—advantage.

The Riddler frowned. He didn't like the idea, if Dr. Crane trusted him as thoroughly as he seemed to. It would feel like a betrayal, to use the man like that. So few people liked or trusted him that he didn't want to destroy it wherever it was genuinely given, even if the giver was an unsettling person. That would make him feel too much like Julie.

But if Dr. Crane _was_ Scarecrow . . . why had he chosen to attack the Riddler? That was a betrayal right there. If the Riddler could just know that they were the same person, he wouldn't feel guilty at all about an infiltration.

xxxx

Bruce wasn't sure what to do. He had barely arrived and started talking to a clearly tense Ethan when a guard had appeared to escort Ethan to Dr. Crane's office for some mysterious and momentary business.

At first Bruce had wondered if Ethan might be being warned against talking about whatever had happened last night. And judging from Ethan's relief when he returned, he had probably wondered something similar.

"So what was that?" Bruce asked. "That's the first time I've seen anyone at Arkham anxious to grab a prisoner for five minutes."

"Oh, Dr. Crane wanted me to confirm that he was here last night," Ethan shrugged. "Yin's here too. Apparently she and the Riddler thought Dr. Crane might be this Scarecrow dude who went out gassing people. Real messed-up Halloween, that's for sure."

"No kidding," Bruce frowned. "But so Dr. Crane was here last night? You saw him?"

"Oh yeah, when I was going to see Portman." Confusion crossed Ethan's features. "Or was it after? Nah, that was Penguin."

Bruce stiffened. "You saw Penguin?"

"Sure did." But then alarm came into Ethan's eyes and he fell silent.

Bruce watched him carefully. "Ethan, did anything . . . strange happen last night? Maybe after you saw Penguin?"

Ethan went completely stiff. "No! Why would you ask something like that?"

"Hey, easy," Bruce said, waving his hands. "I'm just wondering. After all, it's hard to believe a place like Arkham would escape Halloween completely unscathed."

"Y-Yeah, I guess." Ethan tried to laugh, but was clearly not amused. "Bruce, you remember what I told you yesterday, right?"

"Of course I do," Bruce said. "About not talking about things that could get someone hurt."

"That's right. Well, I'm afraid I've still gotta stick to that." Ethan slumped into a chair.

"Alright. I'm cool with that, Ethan. I really am. It's just . . ." Bruce hesitated, trying to think of a way to phrase his next question without incriminating himself. "Last night when I was driving home, I thought I saw the Penguin running around free in an Arkham uniform. But then he was gone, and when I didn't hear anything on the news about an escape, I figured I was just imagining things. So I'd kind of like to know whether it's time for me to call a doctor or not," he concluded lightly. "It wouldn't be good if the president of Wayne Industries was working himself so hard he was seeing supervillains where there weren't any."

The shock on Ethan's face could not be concealed. "You _saw_ Penguin?!" he exclaimed. "Outside Arkham?! When?"

"It was really late," Bruce said. "Like, around one in the morning. Why?" He blinked. "_Was_ there an escape? That surely isn't classified news, is it? Unless the staff's really trying to crack down on the bad press."

"Honestly, Bruce, I don't know if there was an escape or not," Ethan said. "In this case, I kind of hope there was." But then he went rigid, his eyes flickering with worry and guilt. He should not have said that.

"Ethan, what's wrong?" Bruce frowned. "Did something happen to Penguin last night?"

"No," Ethan retorted, a bit too quickly. "Why would anything happen to him?"

"You tell me," Bruce said. "There has to be some reason why you'd say you'd be glad for a jailbreak."

"Oh, I just meant 'cause the food's so bad," Ethan smirked. "It was worse than usual last night and Penguin was complaining about heartburn."

Bruce didn't believe it for a minute. "You're sure of that?"

"I'm sure."

At that moment the visiting room door opened and Ethan jumped a mile.

"Relax," Yin said as she entered. "It's me."

"Oh. Good to see you again, Yin." Ethan smiled. "Hey, I think this is the first time I've seen both of my best friends together when I've fully been in my right mind."

"And it won't be the last," Bruce declared.

Yin smiled too. "You'll be seeing a lot more of us when you're out of here," she said.

"Great. By the way, where's ol' Riddler?" Ethan wondered.

Yin glanced over her shoulder. "He must have stayed behind to talk to Dr. Crane. He was a student of Crane's at the university."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the news. "Really?"

"Guess they've got a lot of catching up to do, then," Ethan said.

"I guess." Yin sat down at the table.

The rest of the visit went well, but with Ethan steadfastly refusing to admit to anything he might know about the previous night. Bruce hadn't really expected much different. Actually, Ethan's insistence on trying to make it appear as though everything had been fine, despite his slip of hoping the Penguin had managed to escape, made Bruce absolutely positive that Ethan knew something.

He wished, as he had those long years ago, that Ethan knew the secret of his identity. Among other reasons, it would be so much easier to talk about subjects such as this. Not that he would want to do so in Arkham anyway. He could believe what Ethan had said about the staff always listening.

It was when Bruce and Yin had said their goodbyes and were heading up the corridor to look for the Riddler that they ran into him coming from the direction of Dr. Crane's office.

Yin immediately knew that something wasn't right. "What happened?" she asked.

"Not in here," the Riddler replied, his voice low. "Later." He looked to Bruce, but gave no sign of knowing the truth about him.

"Uh, hello," Bruce greeted with a wave. "Hey, the last time I saw you was when I thanked you for saving the Wayne Industries building and everyone else in the area. Thanks again."

"Ah, yes. That _was_ the last time, wasn't it," the Riddler said, not skipping a beat.

"What a coincidence, that you two would be coming here the same day I was," Bruce said. They started to walk up the hall.

"So why were you here, Wayne?" Yin asked. "I know you just visited Ethan yesterday. You don't usually make it out two days in a row."

Bruce shrugged. "This week I was able to squeeze it in."

"I'm sure Ethan was thrilled," the Riddler said.

"Yeah, he's always happy to have visitors," Bruce said.

"I'll have to try to get back here soon when it isn't official business," Yin said. She was still worried about Ethan being here at all. Naturally she wouldn't want him released too early, but what if Dr. Crane or Dr. Portman or someone else was deliberately keeping him there when he didn't need to stay any longer? She could picture it; they likely wouldn't want any potential guinea pigs to leave, especially if there was knowledge of the experiments.

As they approached the front door, the same guard was waiting for them. "See you around, Riddler," he sneered. "Maybe sooner than you think."

"Or maybe not," the Riddler returned. He walked past the guard, haughtily, and through the door.

Yin glanced over her shoulder in annoyance as she and Bruce followed. "I have to say, he doesn't have much faith in your reform."

"Maybe he has good reason." The Riddler headed down the steps.

"Maybe I'd feel the same, if I hadn't been coming to know you better," Yin said. She caught up with him at the car. "So maybe right now you _do_ have a crooked halo. I still believe that you're really trying to turn over a new leaf."

"The complete opposite of what Jonathan Crane thinks," the Riddler said.

"Yeah?" Bruce said in surprise.

"Let's just say that Dr. Crane seems to think the worst about everyone and leave it at that for now," the Riddler replied.

"People like that sure must be lonely," Bruce said. This was definitely a conversation he would want to pursue as The Batman. As Bruce Wayne, he couldn't take it very far with Yin there.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps they prefer being alone to associating with beings they detest," the Riddler remarked.

"No kidding. Well, I have to get back. Big golf game today. I'll see you guys later," Bruce said with a wave. He would also have to call Yin as The Batman to tell her about Penguin. The Riddler should probably learn about that too.

He frowned. Maybe, speaking of taking people into his confidence, it was time that Yin knew the truth. She had certainly proved herself a capable and loyal ally many times over. And the three of them could do so much more on this case if she knew. Bruce wouldn't have to duck out of this conversation so suddenly, for instance. He really wished he could stay for the rest, but to stay in character, the Riddler wouldn't reveal the juicier aspects until party boy Bruce Wayne had wandered off.

At least the Riddler had that much consideration for the situation.

"Alright," Yin said, definitely distracted. "Goodbye, Mr. Wayne."

"See you around," the Riddler purred.

Bruce scowled to himself as he headed for his car. The Riddler was getting entirely too much enjoyment out of the fact that he had figured out the truth of Bruce's secret identity.

Not that Bruce would expect any other reaction from Gotham's egotistical puzzlemaster.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Yin was definitely ready to talk as she and the Riddler got into her car, but her opening subject was not what the Riddler had expected.

"You know, you acted awfully familiar with Wayne, considering you've only seen him two or three times," she remarked.

He froze. He had expected she would pick up on it, but he had assumed she wouldn't think anything of it, since it was one of his usual approaches with many people. "Oh? Does that concern you, Yinsey?" he purred. "Don't tell me you're jealous."

Yin rolled her eyes. "Riddler . . ." After quickly considering all possible responses to that unexpected comment, she decided on, "No, but who knows what _he'll_ think."

"Probably nothing." He mentally kicked himself for his slip with Wayne. Hugo Strange had told him that he had an uncontrollable compulsion to leave riddles and cryptic remarks everywhere, to assert over and over that he was telling the truth. It was a scar left over from the beating his father had given him when the man hadn't believed he was telling the truth. It didn't make him crazy, but it did mean he had a serious problem. And he honestly didn't want to reveal Bruce Wayne's secret at the moment.

Although when he thought of it, he didn't really like keeping it from Yin. She was coming to trust him, and that was quite a big secret he was holding back. If she ever learned that he knew and didn't tell, he didn't like to think that it might erase her trust in him.

"Anyway," he said at last, "I don't think I said anything stranger than some of the things I said to you on our _first_ meeting."

"I guess not." She sighed. "But speaking of our first meeting, there's something I've been meaning to ask you. Did you deliberately send that van off the bridge?"

"It was driving itself, and very erratically at that," the Riddler replied.

"I can't believe you weren't controlling it by remote," Yin said. "Otherwise, it would have hit another car."

"You're right, of course." He watched with relief as they drove through Arkham's gates, leaving the foul place behind.

"Then you were deliberately trying to kill me."

"Actually, no. I knew The Batman was right there, shadowing you. I was sure he would save you. I wasn't really surprised that you were still alive after the crash; I was surprised that The Batman didn't order you to stay behind and take over for you, instead of continuing to coach you from the sidelines."

"You were using me as bait, then."

"That, I'll admit to. And I used you against The Batman later, for the lie detector test. I was sure he would reveal enough clues to his identity to keep you from being shocked."

Yin shook her head. "We've come a long way, haven't we."

"Quite. And I like it."

That brought a slight smile. "So do I.

"But okay, Riddler, back to current cases. What did you really mean about Dr. Crane not believing you were changing your ways?"

He sobered. "He said he wanted to take me on as an apprentice for his work at Arkham. He said an apprentice of his would have to have darkness in their soul to approve of his methods. He felt I fit the bill."

"Well, we both know you still have a certain darkness," Yin said. "But somehow I can't picture you working with Crane, even if he isn't Scarecrow."

"I wouldn't. Although if I were working with him, I might be able to solve the rest of the mystery."

"Go undercover?" Yin shot a quick glance at him. "Would you really want to?"

"No. Especially if he isn't Scarecrow. He trusts me and that isn't something I want to shatter." His eyes narrowed. "If I could know he definitely is Scarecrow, I'd be more than willing to betray him to bring him down. He would have already betrayed me, in that case."

Yin frowned, not really wanting to put him in that kind of danger. "There has to be another way. Maybe if Scarecrow shows up tonight, the police or The Batman can catch and unmask him."

"Perhaps. If he doesn't get to them first."

Yin was about to reply when she felt a familiar vibration. "Batman's calling in," she announced. Speaking into the communicator, she said, "You're checking in late. Did you get my message?"

"Yeah," Batman replied. "And I have something to report too. We need to meet and discuss the case."

"Agreed. But where?"

"My office is fine," the Riddler interjected.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Batman said.

"But . . ." Yin scowled as the communication broke off. "It'll take me at least twenty minutes," she muttered. "I just have an ordinary car."

The Riddler smiled. "I can show you a shortcut."

She glanced to him. "Good. Then let's go."

xxxx

It had been blissfully quiet in the Batcave for a while. Alfred had settled at the computer, thoughtfully solving a crossword puzzle. At a sudden, piercing yelp, he pressed the tip of the pen into the page in shock.

"What the heck is this?! Where am I?!" The bars rattled. "Let me out of here!"

Alfred stared in the direction of the cells. "Well, Cobblepot seems to be more in his usual temperament at last," he said to the room.

"Somebody tell me what's going on or I'm gonna bust these bars in!"

"Thank heavens it isn't Bane in that cell," Alfred sighed to himself. But Penguin might be able to do some level of damage, to the bars or more likely, to himself. Quickly Alfred set about contacting his employer.

"Hey, Alfred," came the greeting after a moment. "What's up?"

"Oswald Cobblepot is awake and furious," Alfred reported. "The fear gas seems to have completely worn off without any immediately visible aftereffects. Will you be home soon, Master Bruce? I'm afraid if he isn't given some type of answer on what's happening, he may harm himself trying to escape."

A brief silence followed. "I'm not sure. Some new developments happened and I arranged to talk with Detective Yin and Nygma at Nygma's office." Another pause. "But just in case Penguin can shed some light on things, I'd better come back and question him first. I'll tell Detective Yin I'll be a little late."

"Very good, Sir," Alfred said in audible relief. "How soon can I expect you?"

"I'm not too far from one of the entrances. I should be there in ten minutes."

To Alfred's further relief, the Batmobile drove in twelve minutes later. "You're late, Master Bruce," he said as the roof slid back and Batman leaped out.

"I told Detective Yin I had a possible lead and I'd tell them all about it when I came," Batman said. "I guess Penguin's still awake and angry?"

Before Alfred could answer, Penguin let out another cry. "You're gonna be sorry you ever messed with a Cobblepot! When I get outta here, I'm gonna . . ." He trailed off, his eyes widening as Batman walked up to the cell. "You! I shoulda known it'd be you, Batman! But what's with leaving me here so long without coming?!"

"Do you know how long you've been here?" Batman asked.

"What kind of a question is that?! Of course I know! It's been . . . uh . . ." Penguin trailed off, suddenly confused. "How long has it been? And what am I even doing here anyway? I was in Arkham."

"You don't know why you're not in Arkham now?" Batman frowned.

"I must've broke out. And you must've caught me! So why am I here instead of there?" Penguin gripped the bars, glowering up at his captor.

"I found you lying on the walkway of your family's old house," Batman told him. "You were almost unconscious and rambling about Bruce Wayne stealing your fortune and making you work for his butler. You don't remember that at all?" He regarded the criminal with concern. The other victims had remembered their fears.

"Huh?" Penguin blinked. "I was having a weird dream like that, but . . . oh come on! You're not saying it really _wasn't_ a dream?!"

"No, I'm not saying that," Batman retorted. "It didn't really happen. But it wasn't a dream, either."

"So what was it if it wasn't one or the other?" Now Penguin looked suspicious. "Did I really go crazy after being locked up with the loony birds so long?"

"You don't remember what was happening at Arkham?" Batman watched him carefully, but honestly didn't think he was lying.

Penguin paused, thinking. "Arkham. . . . Dr. Crane took me. . . ."

Batman perked up. "You're sure it was Dr. Crane?"

"Yeah," Penguin frowned. "He put me in this room and . . ." Suddenly his eyes widened in pain and he screamed, a hand flying to the back of his neck.

Batman stared. It was not an act; Penguin was in serious agony. He stumbled back from the bars, collapsing to the floor as his body convulsed and electricity sparked.

Batman had the bars raised in the next moment. He rushed in, following the electricity to its source—a small, flesh-colored disc on Penguin's neck that he had overlooked earlier. He grabbed it, gritting his teeth against the pain, and pulled it free, smashing it on the floor.

Penguin groaned, going slack.

"Master Bruce?!" Alfred exclaimed through the communicator. "Master Bruce, what on Earth happened?!"

"Someone didn't want Penguin talking," Batman frowned. "And either they were listening in and knew exactly when to electrocute him, or the device was somehow programmed to go off at a certain point, maybe if he said specific words."

"My word!" Alfred hesitated. "Were they . . . successful?"

Batman bent down, feeling for a pulse. "No. I got to him in time." His eyes narrowed. "But this was clearly attempted murder. Our enemies have just upped the ante. Now I know that Dr. Crane really is a part of this. And I'm not going to rest until he and whoever he has working with him are stopped."

xxxx

Yin and the Riddler had arrived at his office some time back. To pass the time, the Riddler had shown her around the secret room and demonstrated some of his inventions, and Yin had admittedly been impressed. Now they were back in the outer office. And with Batman still absent, Yin was growing restless. She began to pace around the room.

"Typical," she said. "You show me a shortcut, but then he's delayed anyway. I hope this lead he's following gives us more to go on than we've got right now."

The Riddler had settled on the couch, watching her. "I'm sure he won't come here empty-handed."

"You've got that right." Batman glided into the office and flipped the sign on the door from Open to Closed.

Yin went over to him. "So what's going on?" she demanded. "What was this hot lead?"

"Last night I found Penguin suffering from what was apparently an overdose of the fear gas," Batman said. "I took him back with me and had someone watch him. The gas didn't wear off until a short time ago. At first he didn't remember what had happened, but then he started telling me that Dr. Crane took him last night at Arkham and put him in a room. That was as far as he got before this activated and tried to electrocute him." He held out the remains of the tiny disc.

Yin and the Riddler crowded around to see it. "What is it?" Yin frowned, taking it from Batman and turning it over between her fingers.

"I don't know, but I couldn't find any trace of a listening device. It must have been programmed to activate if Penguin said certain words, like 'Dr. Crane.' I'm going to run some more tests on it."

"Intriguing." The Riddler took it from Yin and examined it as well. "Devious and cruel, but intriguing."

Yin folded her arms. "Maybe Dr. Crane had good reason to think you'd make the perfect apprentice."

He shrugged. "I find the technology fascinating. Once upon a time, I might have used something similar. Just not lethal."

Yin looked up. "Is Penguin dead?"

"No, but he's not conscious yet. He's in the care of a trained medic." Batman opened his mouth again to ask about Yin's apprentice comment.

The Riddler flipped the disc like a coin, sending it back to Batman. "Of course you realize he won't be grateful to you or to that medic," he said before Batman had the chance to speak.

Batman caught it skillfully and slipped it into a chamber of his utility belt. "Most criminals aren't. You've had your moments too."

"It wasn't ingratitude so much as it was that I didn't want you interfering in my revenge. But yes, as far as turning on you, I'm guilty as charged. I just wonder why you bother, with me or Penguin or anyone else." The Riddler stepped back, taking up his cane.

"Because that's what I do." Batman walked past him. "And in this case, because Penguin could be the key to saving everyone from Scarecrow.

"What happened when the two of you went to see Dr. Crane?"

"He had pictures of some of his cases on his walls," Yin said. "I knew I thought that was strange, especially the gruesome poses he chose. He claimed they were people he'd helped. I made some calls while we've been waiting and that part of his story seems to be true."

"It's most likely a cover, the same as being head psychiatrist was a cover for Huge Strange," Batman said.

"That's exactly what Yinsey thought," the Riddler said. "And it's starting to seem more and more probable, after what you've told us. And after what he offered me."

Batman snapped to. Here was some of the information he hadn't been able to hear as Bruce Wayne. "Was that when he offered you the apprenticeship Detective Yin just mentioned?"

"Yes. He thought I had the proper darkness that such a task would require. But I have no intention of becoming a mad scientist . . . unless it's to bring down another mad scientist." The Riddler's eyes narrowed. "You don't have any proof that he's Scarecrow, I suppose."

"No, but it's certainly heading in that direction. The way it looks is that he was experimenting on Penguin last night at Arkham and overloaded him with fear gas. Penguin escaped. And for some reason, he was allowed to. They haven't even reported the breakout. Maybe Crane was testing the aftereffects of such a large dose of the gas and figured that the disc would stop Penguin from saying anything incriminating."

"He still could have been doused with the fear gas after he escaped," Yin said. "Scarecrow could have cornered him somewhere in town."

"But he would have had to be incapacitated for a long time to experience that amount of gas," Batman replied. "He remembered being put in a room. He was probably sealed in and then gassed for an extended period of time."

A shiver ran up Yin's spine. "That's too barbaric, even for Penguin to suffer."

"I know." Batman turned away. "But what bothers me is _why_ they did it. Was it just another experiment? Or did they have some particular reason for choosing Penguin over any other inmate?"

"You mean maybe Penguin knew something he shouldn't?" the Riddler mused.

"Of course," Yin realized. "So they gassed him, maybe hoping the heavy dosage would either make him forget or kill him. That disc was probably wired to kill him if he said anything about that, too."

"I'm sure. Hopefully a prolonged examination of the disc will show me which words and phrases were the triggers. I'm going to work on that now, unless there's anything else you two have to tell me."

"I don't think so," the Riddler said.

"Unless we want to discuss what Ethan probably knows," Yin said. "He behaved very strangely when Wayne and I visited him. If something happened to Penguin at Arkham last night, I think he knows about it. He must have been threatened with someone's safety if he told."

"Or perhaps with the idea that he wouldn't be released?" the Riddler suggested.

Yin's eyes burned. "If people were actually getting hurt, he wouldn't let a threat like that stop him," she insisted.

"Maybe not, if this were the past," the Riddler said. "But now that he's spent time as Clayface, not to mention that he tried unsuccessfully to rehabilitate before, do you think he would still not be afraid at the thought of not being allowed to leave Arkham?"

Yin stiffened. He was hitting a nerve. It went back to her deeply rooted fears about the possible return of Clayface and Ethan's stability. She really believed he would make it this time, and yet, after the failure of the past, she couldn't help but be worried. And she didn't like hearing those fears voiced, especially without proof.

"What's your deal, Riddler?" she snapped. "If you're trying to tease me again, this isn't funny."

"Do I sound like I'm teasing?" he retorted. Actually, he sounded slightly hurt.

Batman gritted his teeth. If Yin knew his civilian identity, he could simply confirm what Ethan had told him was the reason for his silence. But when emotions were starting to spike, was this really a good time to let the bomb drop?

"His reason doesn't really matter at the moment," he interjected. "The point is, he probably knows something. But if he does, he's obviously not about to reveal it."

Yin sighed, rubbing her forehead. "You're right. And there's the fact that he said Crane was at Arkham last night during Scarecrow's debut in Gotham. How do we get past that? I'm not going to believe he deliberately lied for Crane. But if Crane _was_ there, he couldn't be Scarecrow."

"There's several possibilities," Batman said. "Maybe Crane really was there at the time Bennett said. It could have been between attacks. He might have gone back to Arkham to try to set up an alibi for himself."

"Ethan really didn't seem completely sure of himself," the Riddler pointed out. "For a moment, he acted as though he may have seen Dr. Crane at a different time instead."

"Yeah," Yin remembered. "I didn't think anything of it at the time. And maybe there isn't anything to it." She paused. "But it's a possibility that will have to be investigated." No matter what she wanted to believe or what she feared, she had a responsibility to do her job. And right now that meant stopping Scarecrow and the nutcases at Arkham, no matter what got revealed in the process.

"Just be careful how you go about it," Batman cautioned. "The Arkham staff will probably have ways of knowing if he talks. We don't want to endanger Bennett or whoever else's safety he may have been threatened with."

Yin nodded. "I guess right now, there isn't a whole lot to do except examine that disc and wait to see if Penguin wakes up and can tell you anything. And see whether Scarecrow comes out again tonight," she frowned.

"Pretty much." Batman headed for the door. "We'll stick with those options for now. Depending on what happens in the next few hours, we'll decide whether to lean on Bennett for what he might know."

"Be sure to call the moment there's any developments," Yin said urgently. "The commissioner wants to know too."

"I'll call." With that Batman slipped out the door and shut it behind him, leaving the Riddler to change the sign if he wanted.

The Riddler made no motion to do so. "Well, that was interesting," he said. "We still don't really know what's happening, but it certainly looks as though Jonathan Crane is digging his own grave. Even if he isn't the one riding through Gotham at night, he's involved up to his neck. The question is how to prove it."

Yin was silent. "Look, Riddler," she said after a moment, "I'm sorry about what I said. You're right that Ethan might feel pressured with a threat of not being able to leave Arkham. I don't want to believe that he would give in, but he's struggled before, just as you pointed out. He could fail again. And that . . ." She hesitated. "It _is_ one of my fears, just like Scarecrow's fear gas showed me."

"I know." The Riddler's tone was serious. "And I wouldn't make light of that."

Yin laid a hand on his shoulder. "I know. I just didn't like hearing my fears spoken by someone else. As long as they were just mine, I could say I was overreacting. For someone else to bring it up, I'd have to face that it wasn't just me." She sighed. "Which I should have done anyway."

"No one likes to think the worst about someone they love. Not even cops."

Yin managed a smirk. "Cops have feelings too, huh? You're pretty perceptive sometimes."

"I just don't want you to wind up getting hurt. When we don't know what's going on with Ethan, there is that chance."

Yin sobered. "Hopefully that's all it will ever be—a chance. One that doesn't happen."

"I'll hope that as well," the Riddler told her.

xxxx

The rest of the day passed slowly and without much success. A more thorough examination of the disc showed that it was heavily encoded and would take a while to break. Before Bruce had managed to do that, night was falling.

"Any luck, Sir?" Alfred asked as he approached.

"Not much," Bruce frowned. "What about Penguin?"

"Still unconscious, I'm afraid. That fatal burst of electricity that wasn't quite fatal for him still left him in a concerning state. This isn't really the proper place to treat someone in need of medical attention."

"It's been good for me," Bruce said. "I don't think we can risk taking Penguin away from here right now. In fact, I wonder if it might be a good idea to start spreading a rumor that he's dead."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Sir?"

"It could make it safer for him in the long run," Bruce explained. "And it might lure Crane and whoever else into a false sense of security. They might make a mistake."

"Hmm. I suppose," Alfred said carefully. "Or they might endanger someone else. Someone such as Ethan Bennett, perhaps."

Bruce leaned back with a sigh. "I've been worrying about that," he admitted. "I wish there was some way to get Ethan out of there and away from the line of fire. But I'm worried that trying to temporarily get him out of there might ruin his chances for being released from Arkham."

"Surely not, if it was shown not to be his fault that he vanished," Alfred said.

"That's a thought," Bruce agreed. "Maybe The Batman will have to break in and kidnap him."

"And would Ethan come here as well?"

"Probably," Bruce said. "I can't think of a better place for him."

"He would certainly be a more desirable cave guest than Oswald Cobblepot," Alfred declared.

"No arguments there, Alfred," Bruce smiled.

Without warning the Batwave went off, startling them both. "Someone is reporting a giant cockroach skittering over the cars on the highway?" Alfred read in disbelief.

Bruce jumped up in an instant. "Scarecrow," he said darkly, pulling his cowl back over his eyes.

"It would seem so," Alfred agreed in concern. "Do be careful, Master Bruce."

Batman rushed past, leaping into the Batmobile. It pealed out of the Batcave, startling several bats. Penguin, however, didn't stir at the noise.

Alfred sighed to himself. "No matter what I might think of you, I won't have you dying on my watch," he vowed. "I just hope you'll cooperate when you awaken."

xxxx

It didn't take long to follow Scarecrow's trail. The woman who had reported the cockroach was standing on a street corner, trembling, the gas just starting to wear off. She shakily pointed Batman in the right direction, whereupon he encountered several other people who had seen various disturbing sights.

The police were likely close behind, Batman thought to himself, but he was alone when he arrived in an isolated neighborhood of small hills and abandoned houses and saw a rider on a rearing horse at the top of one such hill. Parking the Batmobile, he jumped out and ran towards the sight. "Scarecrow!" he yelled.

The creature turned to face him. It was just as Nygma and Yin had described, right down to the glowing eyes and mouth and charred flesh. "Batman," it uttered. Was it Batman's imagination or was it tensing up?

He continued to advance on the hill. "You've been tormenting people long enough," he declared. "You need psychological help. Tonight you're going down."

"What is madness? What is sanity?" Scarecrow lunged, spraying the air with a vial. Batman dodged, placing a portable breather in his mouth until the gas dissipated. "You think you're sane and I'm mad. What if it's just the opposite? It isn't sane to put yourself in danger when you don't have to, night after night."

"It isn't sane to torment people with their worst fears," Batman said angrily.

"Humanity has never done anything for me before," Scarecrow replied. "When I thought of this idea, I was delighted that I had finally found some use for them."

"The world doesn't belong to you to do with as you will." Batman released a Batarang, knocking the vial from Scarecrow's claw-like hand. It fell to the grass, more gas escaping. Batman reapplied the breather.

He frowned, watching Scarecrow cackle and come at him again. He leaped to the side and sent out a Batrope to pull Scarecrow off the horse. Instead, the madman threw a match, setting the rope on fire. Alarmed, Batman countered it with a small vial of water, dousing the flame.

_Why isn't Scarecrow ever affected by the gas?_ he wondered. _Either that mask protects him from it . . . or he's been exposed to it so often that he's developed immunity for it. Or . . ._ He paused, a new thought coming to him. _Maybe he doesn't fear anything._

Deciding to try to test his theory, he grabbed the fallen gas vial from the ground. "Scarecrow!" He pressed the button. "Have a taste of your own medicine."

Although Scarecrow looked momentarily startled, it quickly faded and he laughed as the cloud of gas surrounded him. "It doesn't work on me, Batman."

"Why not?" Batman demanded.

"See if you can figure it out. But meanwhile . . ." Without warning Scarecrow produced a second vial. "I'm guessing The Batman isn't completely fearless, or he wouldn't need that breather. But what is the Dark Knight afraid of? I want to find out."

Again Batman dodged, grabbing for his breather. But this time, just like in his nightmare, a heavy chain swooped out, wrapping around his torso and binding his arms to his sides. The breather was knocked from his hand. He clenched his teeth, struggling against the bindings, but no avail. Then Scarecrow was laughing and a strange scent was filling the air.

Now Batman was fighting against the gas and not just the chains. He blinked, his eyes watering. Whatever he saw wouldn't be real. He had to focus on that and not let it bother him.

"_Son."_

He looked up with a start. "Dad?" Thomas Wayne was stepping out of the shadows, not looking impressed. Martha Wayne was right beside him, equally unhappy.

"_Son, what are you doing with your life?"_ Thomas demanded. _"Pretending to be a party animal while by night you dress up as a vigilante and try to save all of Gotham? You have a responsibility to the company. __**That's**__ what you need to focus on, not this nonsense."_

Martha's eyes were sad. _"We thought we could count on you, Bruce. But you couldn't save us. You didn't save us."_ Now a hole was opening in her flesh, crimson dripping from the fatal wound inflicted by the still-unknown mugger.

Batman gasped, wanting to look away but being unable to. "No. . . . Mom . . . Dad. . . ."

Thomas's appearance was similarly changing. _"If you couldn't save your own parents, how can you expect to save anyone else? You can't protect the city. Don't you understand? You __**can't.**__ You __**didn't.**__"_

Suddenly raucous laughter was echoing all around him. It wasn't Scarecrow's, or even any one specific person's at all. It was the entire city, fallen prey to Joker's toxic laughing gas. And as Batman stood there, listening to the uncontrollable howls and guffaws all around him, he suddenly became aware that Gotham was on fire. Every building, every home, every tree and blade of grass, was burning out of control. Anyone who didn't die from the laughing gas was dying from the inferno. Batman could only stand there, helpless, watching it happen.

_No!_ Batman cried in his mind. _This isn't real. None of it's real. I have to break out of it. I have to . . ._

"Batman!"

Someone was grabbing his shoulder. Someone real . . . someone not laughing.

"Batman, are you alright?!"

Slowly he blinked away the moisture from his eyes. His vision was clearing, bringing the hill and the grass back into focus. He wasn't bound; the chain was gone and so was Scarecrow. Yin was bending over him, worried.

". . . Where's Scarecrow?" he mumbled.

"Gone," Yin said in annoyance. "When we got here, we found his horse had left tracks, but those disappeared at the edge of the grass. We haven't been able to pick up his trail."

The red-and-blue lights of police cars flashed across the previously lonely area. Batman sat up, cursing himself for falling prey to the fear gas. And what had he said aloud? Had it been anything that could trace back to his true identity? Could Scarecrow know who he was now?

He pushed those concerns aside. He was really pretty sure he hadn't said anything that identifying.

"How long have you been here?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet.

"Just a couple of minutes." Yin frowned. "So Scarecrow got you too?"

"Unfortunately." Batman stumbled, but quickly caught his balance.

"Whoa." Yin reached to steady him. "Maybe you should get checked out by someone."

"I'll take care of that later." Batman turned to head towards the Batmobile.

"You're in no condition to drive," Yin insisted. "Riddler drove me after I was gassed."

"I'll put it on Auto Drive," Batman replied. Easing himself into the vehicle, he pressed a few buttons and slumped into the seat, letting the technologically advanced car steer away from the curb and past the police cars.

"Hey, wait a minute!" an officer yelled. He sighed. "We still needed a statement."

Yin looked to him. "I don't think he could tell us much more than we already know," she said. "Unless you're wondering what someone like The Batman fears."

The officer flushed. "No, Detective. Well, I mean, I do kind of wonder, but I wouldn't ask him that."

"I would hope not." Yin turned away, studying the area in frustration. "Where are you now, Scarecrow?" she muttered. "And who's going to be hurt next?"

She was really downright afraid of the answer.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The Riddler was cold and determined as he roamed Gotham Park. Yin had called him moments earlier to warn him that Batman had tangled with Scarecrow and had lost. The Riddler had responded by covertly hacking into and looking at the images projected by certain security cameras along the paths Scarecrow might have taken through the city. Finally he had located the mysterious rider on a path leading into the park. And, determining it was time for the confrontation he had vowed to have, he had headed there with several Riddlemen in tow.

He was angry as he turned a corner. Scarecrow had attacked him, Yin, and now even Batman. They had enough problems to deal with right now, what with these experiments at Arkham and worries over Ethan and his own attempts to have at least a partially normal life by forging a friendship with Yin. Now, everything seemed to be connected.

He sneered when he saw the rider just up ahead, guiding the horse calmly down a trail. They were just approaching a mounted loudspeaker that he had already hacked into and was controlling with his cane and a remote connection.

"Riddle me this," he said darkly into the installed microphone, and the sound transmitted to the loudspeaker. The rider froze, looking about. "Why should you never anger a former criminal?"

Scarecrow started to leer. "Tell me why, Riddler."

The Riddler leaped out of the night, brandishing his cane. "Because they might still have enough darkness in them to come after you!"

The horse reared, frightened, and Scarecrow tumbled to the ground. Immediately the Riddlemen descended on him, hauling him up by both arms.

The Riddler landed in front of them and straightened, still holding his cane like a potentially dangerous weapon. "You have crossed me more than once," he said darkly. "Surely you didn't think I would just leave it at that."

"I hoped you wouldn't." Scarecrow's red eyes seemed to gleam even more in the dark night. "I attacked you not only to see your fears, but to see how you would handle being violated in that way. And to say I've crossed you multiple times, you must be referring to some of my other assaults."

"You're well aware of exactly what I mean, aren't you," the Riddler retorted. "Jonathan Crane."

Scarecrow just laughed. "I won't admit to my identity, Riddler. Not unless you can beat me in a fight."

"Oh, I was hoping you would suggest that," the Riddler sneered.

Without warning Scarecrow kicked out, startling both Riddlemen and loosening their grips on his arms. Before they could recover, he had pulled away and sprayed them both with the fear gas. "I'd rather go one-on-one with you," he said, amid the sound of the horrified cries.

The Riddler clenched his teeth, further angered by the blatant assault on his men. "By all means."

Scarecrow flung out his chain, aiming to wrap it around the Riddler's cane. Instead the Riddler leaped to the side and a tree was clipped.

The Riddler lunged, smacking Scarecrow hard in the stomach with his weapon. "So tell me, Scarecrow," he snarled. "What made you decide to do what you've been doing?"

Scarecrow fell back with a pained _oof. _"What made you decide to create deathtraps for people to play through?" he hissed as he straightened. "We're more alike than you might like to believe."

"I like to challenge people of intelligence," the Riddler retorted. He dived to avoid a spray of fear gas. "Or I go after people who have wronged me. I don't target random people on the street!"

Suddenly the chain was flying overhead, catching on the scythe fastened to the horse's saddle. Scarecrow gave a tug and the weapon came free, clipping several twigs on its way over to him. "Is that any different than my targeting you or Detective Yin or other specific people?" He caught the scythe and unwound it from the chain. It swung over the Riddler's head in a warning arc.

The Riddler ducked, crashing his cane against the pole of the scythe when it swung again. "In some ways, perhaps not. I wouldn't blame anyone who decided to target me for what I've done. So you shouldn't be surprised that what you're doing will result in vengeance-seekers. Not to mention crime-fighters wanting to bring you to justice."

Scarecrow cackled. "And which are you?" Their weapons clashed a second time, the sound of the connecting metal ringing down the path. "I don't believe that rehabilitation ever really works. Criminals don't change their ways or their mindsets. You may be bringing down murderers and their ilk, but you don't do it for the protection of the people in general or even just that of your clients. You do it for the mental challenge and the money. All you really care about is yourself."

For a moment the Riddler wavered. He couldn't deny that a lot of that was true about himself. But would he have actually risked his life for a mental challenge, as he had at least twice? He had told Yin he would not.

"Detective Yin doesn't believe that," he retorted. "She knows I still have my faults, but she doesn't think I'm completely, irredeemably selfish."

"What if she's only playing you, like Julie did? She wants your help, so she pretends she cares and tells you what you want to hear."

Fury filled the Riddler's heart. "NO!" He lunged, knocking Scarecrow off-balance. "She's not like that! She's one of the most sincere people I know!"

That only made Scarecrow laugh all the harder. "And how can you really know? You, who were so completely fooled by Julie?" He leaped forward, slamming the pole of the scythe across the Riddler's waist. He grunted in pain, flying backwards into the brush. Before he could get up, Scarecrow was upon him, beating him with the pole as his father had beaten him with the baseball bat years earlier.

Terror filled the Riddler's heart. He didn't need fear gas for this experience to start melding with the past. His father's voice echoed through his mind even as Scarecrow's words echoed in his ears.

"_You little brat. You cheated, didn't you?! You __**cheated!**__"_

He fought to grasp the present. "My death wouldn't have been one of Yin's fears if . . . if she didn't care," he yelled over the pain of the assault. He grabbed for the scythe to pull it away, but was kicked back into the trunk of a tree.

"Ah yes, there _is_ that," Scarecrow purred. "Then perhaps one of your fears will be dying and fulfilling her fear!"

The Riddler cried out in pain as the pole clanked across his right shoulder and then his left side. He turned, struggling to grab for his fallen cane, but it was just out of his reach. The pole struck his left hand in the next moment, preventing him from even trying again to get it.

"You should have known better than to challenge me," Scarecrow grinned. "Your anger always makes you easy prey for a defeat. And you may be agile, but you're useless in combat once you're pinned down." The pole hit the Riddler on the side of his head and he went down, slumping into the brush.

Scarecrow straightened and backed up, prodding him with the bottom of the scythe. "Friday's child is full of woe," he whispered. Bending down, he sprayed the fear gas directly at the unconscious man. "Let's see if this penetrates your current state."

Moments later the Riddler was screaming, lost in a wretched dream, and Scarecrow was watching in delight. But at a movement out of the corner of his eye, he came to attention. The Riddlemen were stumbling up, out of the effects of the fear gas and furious over the assault on them and their employer.

"Till next time then," Scarecrow hissed. Tipping his hat to them, he ran for his horse and climbed aboard. It galloped away, leaving the Riddlemen to find the Riddler now sprawled and groaning in the bush.

xxxx

Alfred had come upstairs to make a small snack when a knock came at the door. Raising an eyebrow, he set the knife down and headed for the entryway. "Coming!" he called.

He opened the door and fell back, staring in shock and disbelief at the sight of the Riddler being held up by two Riddlemen. "Good evening," the Riddler rasped, weakly clutching at his left side. "I've been told you're a trained medic. Would you be willing to . . . help me?"

Alfred kept staring. It was the first time he had ever seen the Riddler in person. And Bruce had not revealed that the Riddler knew his secret. Alfred was stunned. "Who on Earth told you that?" he finally exclaimed. "My word, you should be in the hospital!"

"I'm hoping it's not that serious," the Riddler grunted. "I'd like an examination from a professional before I end up stuck in a hospital overnight. As to who told me, let's just say . . . Mr. Wayne?"

Alfred stiffened. It was the _way_ the Riddler said it, more than the actual words he used. _He knows,_ he exclaimed inwardly in alarm. _He __**knows!**_

"Very well," he said at last. "Come in." He stepped away from the door, allowing the Riddlemen to assist their boss in limping in and going over to the couch.

The Riddler hissed in pain as he sank into the cushions. "By the way, is Mr. Wayne here?"

"Not at the moment," Alfred replied in a clipped tone.

The Riddler accepted that. Looking to his lackeys, he said, "I'll be alright. Leave us and wait in the van."

The Riddlemen looked hesitant, but nodded and slipped out the front door.

Alfred waited until he was sure they were walking away from the porch before speaking again. "How long have you known about Mr. Wayne?" he demanded. With deftness and precision, he unbuttoned the other man's shirt and began carefully feeling along his ribs.

The Riddler cringed when Alfred found the badly bruised spot. "Oh, you mean he didn't tell you?" he said, struggling to find a smirk. "I've known for the better part of the year. But I only let Wayne know for certain that I wasn't just talking through my hat when I came back from the dead. I hacked into his computer and let him know then."

Alfred's mouth fell open. "Why, the utter nerve!" he exclaimed, pressing down too hard in his shock.

"Ow!" the Riddler responded, digging his fingers into the couch cushion. "Look at it this way, Mr. Pennyworth—if you weren't told, Wayne can't be worrying about it too much."

"On the contrary," Alfred said indignantly. "He might be worrying a great deal, only he wouldn't want to tell me and start me worrying as well!"

"But you would be able to tell if something was wrong," the Riddler answered. "After raising him, and being his technical man behind the scenes, and very likely teaching him at least some of the skills he uses, you can't get me to believe that you wouldn't be able to tell if he was worried about someone revealing his identity."

Alfred had to concede to that truth. "So he apparently doesn't believe your knowledge of that vital information is going to be the end of his career," he said.

"He doesn't," the Riddler agreed. He smirked. "After all, The Batman is Gotham City's greatest riddle. It's more fun to keep him that way."

"And I suppose if you thought it would be more fun to reveal the truth, you would do that," Alfred said. He started examining the bump on his strange patient's head.

Somewhat to his surprise, the Riddler sobered. "I haven't revealed it even though I might have liked to, at least to one person." He winced. "But aren't you going to ask how I ended up like this?"

"I found our current topic more important," Alfred declared. "Nevertheless, this is a nasty bump. How _did_ it happen, if I may ask?"

"I fought with Scarecrow. I wasn't expecting him to be this good at physical combat."

"And perhaps you weren't expecting that you would be so terrible at it," Alfred said matter-of-factly. "Why would you even think of taking on a madman like the Scarecrow, after you know what damage he's capable of causing to the mind?"

"Because I don't sit back quietly and accept being a victim," the Riddler replied. "Someone needs to see that Scarecrow is brought down. Apparently Batman wasn't able to handle that task tonight."

"Nor were you," Alfred retorted. "Now Heaven knows where he is or what havoc he's wreaking! You're lucky he didn't break you in half."

The Riddler sneered. "We're talking about the Scarecrow, not Bane."

Alfred humphed. "Well, in my opinion, you're very badly bruised and you may have a mild concussion. You should really go to the hospital and let a doctor examine you there."

"If you really think that's necessary, don't you have equipment in the . . . basement?" the Riddler said smoothly. "X-Ray machines and such?"

Alfred scowled. "Visitors are not permitted in the _basement_, except in very special circumstances."

"Is that why the Penguin is down there?"

Alfred froze. "Master Bruce _does_ keep you well-informed," he said. "Yes, Oswald Cobblepot is currently one of those special circumstances. He is also currently very unconscious."

"How can you be sure, when you're up here with me?"

"The Batwave would inform me of any changes in his condition," Alfred said. "I haven't heard it go off."

"Fair enough." The Riddler clenched his teeth as he slowly pushed himself up. "Well, I won't bother you any longer."

Alfred let out a heavy sigh. "Oh, come downstairs as long as you already know about it," he said. "We'll take the lift. You certainly aren't in any condition to use the Batpole."

The Riddler smiled, having half-expected Alfred to give in. "Thank you." He reached for his cane, which one of the Riddlemen had left for him, and used it to pull himself to his feet.

Alfred stood by in case he needed further assistance. "I don't know what Master Bruce will say if he comes back and finds you there, but I suppose we'll deal with that if it happens."

"I don't think there will be any problem." The Riddler glanced over his shoulder with an entertained smirk. "But . . . Batpole? Batwave? Do you rename everything here with 'Bat' in front of it?"

Alfred did not look amused. "Only those things that Master Bruce uses for his pursuit of justice as The Batman."

The Riddler half-shrugged with his uninjured shoulder. "Well, whatever works. I just find it amusing. I don't name all of my inventions after myself. And _I'm _supposed to be the vain one."

Alfred practically snorted, a most undignified behavior for which he would have hated himself had he actually done it. "It's a way of identifying what the inventions are to be used for," he said angrily. "See here, Mr. Edward Nygma or whatever your name is, you have a lot of gall to come in here expecting my medical expertise and insulting Master Bruce in the same breath!"

The elevator happened to open at that moment, revealing a stunned Bruce Wayne. "What's going on here?!" he demanded.

Alfred jumped a mile. "Oh, Master Bruce! This . . . _man_ arrived on your doorstep, having come out on the losing side of a fight with that treacherous Scarecrow. He seems to think I will help him. He also doesn't care for the names you've given your . . . inventions."

"Nevermind that, Alfred," Bruce said. "Nygma, what _happened?!_" He frowned, glowering at the Riddler.

"Your butler summed it up quite well," was the reply. "We were just going downstairs to see how serious this possible concussion is."

Bruce stepped to the side in the elevator. "Come on then," he said, still frowning. "And I want to know more about what happened between you and Scarecrow."

"Of course," the Riddler purred as he limped inside, followed by a displeased Alfred. "Shall I give you a play-by-play of every blow landed?"

"Tell me what he said," Bruce retorted. "Did he say anything that could be a clue?"

"He was just saying more of the same things he's been saying," the Riddler said. "None of it seemed especially important. Although . . . his speech pattern _was_ a lot like Dr. Crane's."

"Unfortunately, we can't take a speech pattern to court," Bruce frowned. "The only solution might be to try to follow or bug Crane."

"I'm surprised you haven't tried that already," the Riddler said.

"I didn't want to risk putting Ethan or any other Arkham patients in danger by planting a bug that could be found," Bruce said.

"But now you're getting so desperate, you might try it anyway," the Riddler said.

The elevator reached the Batcave and everyone stepped out. Alfred went on ahead to ready the machine and check on Penguin in person. The Riddler followed behind, moving slowly and clearly in pain.

Bruce kept pace with him. "How long ago did this happen?" he asked.

"Thirty minutes, perhaps," the Riddler said. "I'm not exactly sure."

"And why _are_ you here?" Bruce frowned.

"Wayne Manor was closer than the hospital or Yinsey's place," the Riddler replied. "And Yinsey's on duty. Anyway, I didn't want to worry her."

"There is a very good hospital near downtown Gotham," Alfred grunted. He moved away from the very lifeless Penguin and over to the X-Ray machine.

The Riddler sighed. "Alright. I wanted to talk to you." He looked to Bruce. "I hoped you'd be . . . back."

"What did you want to talk about?" Bruce wondered.

"For one thing, if you ever plan to let anyone else know what you really do," the Riddler said.

"You mean like Yin," Bruce said instantly.

"Ah, then it _has_ been on your mind," the Riddler smirked.

"Yes, it has. I'll admit that it would have been more convenient earlier today, if Yin had known the truth. But there's a lot of situations where it might be convenient at the time and not long-term. I don't want to make the wrong decision. This is something that can't be turned back. Once I do it, that's it."

"Detective Yin isn't just anyone," the Riddler said, a slight edge in his voice. "She's been loyal to you ever since the fiasco with Ethan Bennett being turned into Clayface. If she knew the truth, it _would_ be good for you long-term and not just now."

"And it would be good for you," Bruce shot back. "You wouldn't have to worry about inadvertently spilling it through one of your irresistible riddles."

The Riddler looked away. "I wouldn't have to feel guilty for knowing something so important and keeping it from her," he said quietly.

Bruce softened slightly, but still said, "It's not like I told you willingly, either. If I had my way, you wouldn't know."

Alfred looked over from where he had the machine prepared. "If I may say so, Sir, Detective Yin can certainly be trusted. And even though I do not care for your current _ally_ here, I do agree with him that Detective Yin knowing the truth would be a help and not a hindrance."

"I've thought about that, Alfred," Bruce said. "I've been thinking of telling both her and Ethan. I was going to tell Ethan right before the Joker turned him into Clayface," he added by way of explanation to the Riddler. "And while I might hold off on telling Ethan until he's away from Arkham, I'd rather tell Yin on this case, if I'm going to tell her at all."

"That sounds like a plan, Master Bruce," Alfred said, pleased.

The Riddler started to relax. "Good."

"And the machine is ready now, if you want to go through with having an X-Ray," Alfred interjected, somewhat stiffly.

The Riddler made his way in that direction. "I might as well, since we're all down here."

His mind wandered during the actual taking of X-Rays. Suppose, just suppose, the situation was reversed. What if Yin knew the truth and he didn't? Would she feel as guilty for keeping it from him as he was from her? She was coming to trust him, but would she trust him with such vital information? Could she?

"Mr. Nygma!"

He started. Alfred was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. "Oh, we're done?"

"Yes. It will be a few minutes before the photographs are developed."

The Riddler slowly limped away from the machine. "Very well." He wandered over to the bed where Penguin was laying, looking down for a moment at his once-colleague in crime.

Bruce followed him. "Crane's—or whoever's—electricity really did a number on him."

"Yes," the Riddler agreed. "So I see."

Neither of them was expecting Penguin's eyes to suddenly snap open. "What's happening? Where am I?!"

Bruce and Alfred immediately ducked out of sight before they could be seen. The Riddler leaned heavily on his cane, but tried to disguise that he was doing so out of necessity. "Where are you? Why, in The Batman's mind, of course," he smirked.

"Huh?" Penguin looked over at him in bewilderment. "Riddler? Why are _you_ here?"

"I just dropped in for a little chat," the Riddler replied. "And to see how badly you were hurt."

Penguin grunted. "Oh yeah . . . you are buddy-buddy with the Bat now, aren't you?" He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. "But you're not gonna get me to believe that you were worried about me."

"I suppose not," the Riddler calmly agreed. "Still, even though we've had our differences, I'm not crazy about the thought of you being the Scarecrow's first fatality."

"Scarecrow?" Penguin frowned. "It was Crane that was after me. Him and that nutty woman psychiatrist."

"Dr. Portman?" Batman demanded, suddenly appearing on the scene.

Penguin started. "Yeah, her," he said. "She's a real shrew. She puts on this whole act of being interested in helping you get over whatever your problem is, but she's really not interested in that at all! It seems more like she's interested in picking you apart and seeing if you'll go back to whatever you were doing after some treatment."

"That's the same impression I had," the Riddler said. "Just like Hugo Strange."

"Who actually put the disc on your neck?" Batman inquired of Penguin.

"What disc?" Penguin retorted.

"There was a small disc on the back of your neck," Batman told him. "It electrocuted you the moment you mentioned Dr. Crane had put you in a room."

"Oh. Yeah." Penguin scowled. "I remember being shocked, but I don't remember them putting any disc on me."

"You were probably too caught up in your delusions to realize," Batman said.

"If I had to guess, I would say Portman," the Riddler offered. "Crane seems more interested in intangible things such as gas."

"Then Portman is a good guess," Batman said. "Unless there's another party involved in this too."

"I wouldn't know about that," Penguin said. "I only remember the two of them. And Crane was doing stuff to other people. I wanted to tell Bennett about that, but that's when Crane took me." He glowered at Batman. "And now you're probably gonna take me back there, aren't you?"

"Not until the danger is gone," Batman replied.

"If it's not them, it'll be someone else," Penguin insisted. "Arkham is not a happy place. It's not even much of a place for 'rehabilitation', if you believe in that kind of thing." He looked to the Riddler. "I'll bet Arkham didn't have much to do with you switching sides."

"Not much, I'll grant you," the Riddler said. "But then again, you and I aren't insane."

_That is debatable! _Alfred barely refrained from saying out loud.

"Arkham doesn't do much for the real nutjobs either," Penguin said.

The Riddler smirked. "The Joker, at least, is beyond help, as far as I'm concerned. He doesn't want to change; therefore, nothing can make him." He started to turn away. "And now, if that's all you can tell us, I believe I'm going to take my leave."

"That's all I really know," Penguin shrugged, "except for what Crane seemed to be doing to those other people."

"You didn't actually see what he was doing?" Batman frowned.

"I saw him take people into the same room he put me in," Penguin said, "and then later they'd come out acting weird and babbling about creepy stuff they'd seen."

"That's basically what I saw as well," the Riddler said. "But I never saw Dr. Crane." He paused. "You know, that's odd. He was there during the time I was there last."

"Maybe he didn't want you to see him yet," Batman suggested.

"That could be," the Riddler nodded. "I don't know why he would care, but I could imagine him having some twisted reason."

"He's really out there," Penguin said. "But what's so special about you specifically?"

"I used to be his student," the Riddler answered. "And now I really will take my leave. Goodnight." He looked to Batman. "I'll see you later, to continue our little discussion."

Batman nodded.

"So what's gonna happen to me?" Penguin asked. "Do I get to stay on the bed?"

"Only if I'm sure you're not going to leave it," Batman replied, and promptly handcuffed him to the metal railing.

"_Wak!"_ Penguin cried in displeasure.

Alfred, watching from his concealed spot, had to smile in amusement.

"By the way," the Riddler said, suddenly appearing in front of him, "about those pictures."

Alfred started. "Oh. Yes." He held out the X-Rays. "There are no cracked or broken bones and no indication of damage to the brain. But I would still recommend a good rest."

The Riddler took the pictures. "And I intend to get it. Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth." He paused. "I honestly do appreciate the time you took to help me."

Somewhat surprised at the strange man's sincerity, Alfred tried to mask his feelings as he said, "Just don't make it a waste of my time, Mr. Nygma."

"You won't have to worry about that," the Riddler smirked, and turned to limp toward the elevator. "And I can find my way out. Goodnight."

Alfred watched him go. "What an odd man," he said to himself.

xxxx

Ethan was restless. Unable to sleep, he paced about his cell, wondering about Scarecrow and Penguin and Bruce and Yin and everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

_Was_ Dr. Crane Scarecrow? It didn't seem like it could be. Yet, why did he feel that what he had said about seeing Dr. Crane at nine might not be true? Had it been a different time? And either way, did it really matter? Even if Dr. Crane hadn't been around during the time Scarecrow had been active in Gotham, it did not mean they were one and the same person.

And then there was what Bruce had said about seeing Penguin somewhere outside Arkham. Could Penguin be alive? If he had escaped, why hadn't anyone sounded the alarm? What if instead they had thought he was dead and had done something horrible like throw his body in the bay, but he had come to and managed to swim away?

Ethan slammed his fist into his hand. If only he had some real answers! And if only he wasn't stuck in here, where he couldn't do anything to help anyone!

"Hey!" a familiar voice suddenly exclaimed. "This isn't the way to the head-shrinker's office. Where are we going?"

Ethan perked up, hurrying to the glass wall to look out. "Joker?" he said under his breath. He would recognize that voice anywhere. And indeed, in a moment, he caught a glimpse of a guard prodding Joker past the corridor and down another.

"Dr. Crane wants to see you," the guard replied harshly.

"Me?!" Joker shot back. "In the middle of the night?"

"Shut up and keep moving," the guard growled.

"What the heck?" Ethan said. "This is just like with Penguin—being dragged out late like this! Did Joker see something too?"

"No, Mr. Bennett, he did not."

Ethan started at the cold, businesslike voice. "Dr. Portman!" He turned to face the woman, who was standing at the glass door. "What's going on? Why does Crane want Joker right now?"

"I authorized it, Mr. Bennett." Dr. Portman's lips curled in a wicked smile. "Dr. Crane wanted a new subject and I suggested our most notorious inmate. You see, that will enable me to study you at the same time."

"How do you figure?!" Ethan demanded in disbelief.

Dr. Portman adjusted her glasses. "The Joker tormented you in the past. He turned you into Clayface and directly led to everything you did in your mad state. Now, he will be the one in torment. How will you react? Clayface would have enjoyed it, regretting only that he was not responsible for it. But what about Ethan Bennett? Will he enjoy it?"

"What? That's sick!" Ethan cried. "You're both crazy!"

"Then, Mr. Bennett, we are right where we belong," Dr. Portman declared with a mad smile.

The Joker's voice was soon echoing through the ventilation system. "Oooh, are we going to play with the same stuff that made Pengy lose it? I havta warn you, Doc, I'm not afraid of anything."

Dr. Crane's voice was calm and unruffled. "We'll soon find out."

For a while, the Joker laughed with increasing hysteria, not bothered at all.

That only made it all the more chilling when the screams started in earnest.

"Well," Dr. Portman mused, "so even the Joker has his fears."

"And I am _not_ enjoying this," Ethan snarled. "You go to Dr. Crane and make him stop this, right now!"

Dr. Portman just smirked, folding her arms. "He will stop when he's ready. As will I."

Ethan hit the glass with both fists. This was the last straw. He had to find a way out of here now, tonight.

No one else was going to suffer at the hands of these mad scientists because of him.

Not even the Joker.

xxxx

Yin sighed tiredly as she shuffled into her apartment and shut the door. It had been a long, hard night, filled with chasing down the Scarecrow until his trail had gone cold. Right now, Yin had no idea where to look for him other than Arkham. And there wasn't any proof of what was happening at Arkham. She could only hope that Penguin would regain consciousness and provide some.

The sensation was immediate and familiar. Yin whirled, drawing her gun, but then stopped and stared at the sight of Batman in her kitchen doorway. "You couldn't use the Batwave?" she said wryly.

"This had to be done in person," Batman replied.

Yin raised an eyebrow. "It's not about Penguin or Scarecrow?"

He took a step forward. "There isn't any easy way to do this, so I'm just going to come right out with it. It's time to take our alliance to the next level."

"What are you talking about?" Yin asked. But even as she did, Batman's hand went to the cowl. She gasped as he started to pull it back. Then it was off and Batman was unmasked, standing in her living room.

_Bruce Wayne_ was standing in her living room.

She could only keep staring, her heart increasing in speed. She had come to Gotham to learn the mystery of The Batman's identity. She had been tempted to unmask him more than once when the opportunity had been dropped in her lap, but she hadn't ever gone through with it. Then they had become partners against crime and she still hadn't known who he was.

Meanwhile, Bruce Wayne had partied and played across the city. Yin had tried to like him because he was Ethan's best friend, and gradually she had come to see that the party animal persona was all just an act for a deep and caring man beneath.

But _this. . . ._ She had never once suspected _this._

"You," she finally choked out. "Why?"

"I didn't want any other kids to end up without their parents," Bruce . . . Batman . . . said. "Then I didn't want anyone in Gotham to suffer because of criminals."

Yin shook her head. That made sense. "Why are you letting me know this now, after all this time?"

"It will make it easier to discuss the Scarecrow case," was the reply.

"Then isn't there someone else who should be brought in on this too?" Yin retorted.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the answer came to her.

"_See you around."_

That smug, egotistical, knowing smirk. . . . Those clever words. . . .

"Riddler already knows," she whispered in further disbelief.

"He figured it out himself," Batman said, pulling the cowl back up. "I didn't tell him."

"And he didn't tell me," Yin breathed.

"He didn't tell anyone," Batman said. "He could have, but he chose not to." He paused. "And Penguin's awake. He confirmed it was Crane and Portman who hurt him and who have been hurting others."

"Great," Yin said, trying to shake off her shock and get back to basics. "So what's our next move?"

"I recorded everything Penguin told me. I'm going to play the tape for the commissioner and let him decide," Batman said.

"That and the disc should be enough to get us in the door," Yin said. "Crane and Portman are going down."

Batman nodded. "By tomorrow, we might be able to get Arkham on the first step to being a genuinely good place to treat the criminally unstable." He turned to go back to the window.

Yin moved to open the door. "You could just go downstairs the normal way," she said.

"I could," Batman said. He glided to the window and climbed out, closing it behind him.

Shaking her head, Yin hauled the door open and stepped out. It was late, but she wouldn't be surprised if the Riddler was awake.

She was going to go ask him why he had kept quiet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The door was locked when Yin arrived at the office. But she could see through the glass that the Riddler was there, lying on the couch with one arm draped over his masked eyes. His cane was held in his other hand.

Yin frowned. She didn't want to wake him if he actually was asleep. Her questions could wait until morning. She started to turn away.

The door suddenly opened. "Come in, Yinsey."

She jumped, turning back. He was still lying there, but he was looking at her, and he had pressed a button on his cane to remotely open the door.

She walked in, not surprised when the door shut and locked behind her. "You're sleeping here instead of your bed?" she commented.

"I'm just resting after a hard day's work. I was going to go to bed soon." He kept lying there, watching her. "What is it?"

She came closer. "How long have you known about Batman?"

If he knew what she meant, he pretended not to. "Oh, from the very first night I committed a puzzling crime," he purred. "Before that, actually. He inspired me in so many ways when we actually met. I knew from then on that he was the perfect foil, the ideal challenge to beat."

She rolled her eyes. "I mean, how long have you known his real identity?!"

His eyes, unseen by her, imperceptibly flickered. "What makes you think I do?"

"I figured it out. And he admitted it."

Silence. "What else did he admit?"

"He told me who he is." Yin folded her arms. "I'm waiting for an answer, Riddler."

"It wasn't that difficult to figure out, really, once I put my mind to it. And what else did I have but time to think while I was in that coma?" He smiled, looking pleased with himself. "I thought about the amount of money and resources he would have to have. I thought about what might have motivated him to take on such a bizarre and lofty task. I thought about what seemed to be his approximate age. And I narrowed it all the way down to the truth."

"A truth you kept to yourself."

"Would you have rather I blasted it from the housetops?"

"Of course not." Yin came to stand in front of the couch. "Maybe I'm surprised you didn't."

"Why should I want to render the greatest riddle in all of Gotham City worthless? It's much more satisfying to be the one who holds the winning cards, yet keeps them secret."

A bit of disgust flashed across Yin's face. "Is that the only reason you kept quiet with _everyone?_ Your selfish riddles?" She clenched a fist. "I thought I meant more to you than that."

He sat up, much too quickly, and grimaced as he clapped a hand over his side. "That . . . isn't true. About my reasons, I mean. I even went to Batman tonight to try to convince him to tell you." He looked at her with what was clearly desperation. "Yin, believe me, I didn't want to keep it from you."

Yin was half-listening. She had dropped down at his side, alarmed by his obvious pain. "Riddler, what happened to you?!" she demanded. Inwardly she berated herself. She should have known something was wrong when he kept lying there.

"It's nothing," he tried to assure her. "I was fighting Scarecrow." He gave a shaky smirk. "You should see what he looks like now."

Yin didn't believe that for one minute. "Oh! _Riddler!_" She reached to inspect the injury. "How bad are you hurt? Have you even seen anyone about it?"

He flinched as she touched the bruise. "It's not bad, Yinsey. Really. And I did see someone—Alfred Pennyworth. You know, the Wayne butler?"

"He's qualified?" Yin shot back.

"Yes, he is," the Riddler insisted. "He was trained as a medic in the military."

"Why were you fighting Scarecrow anyway?!" Yin exclaimed.

The Riddler fell silent. "I guess I . . . I thought I could bring him down. I wanted to try, at least. I suppose you could say it was a matter of . . . honor?"

"He could have _killed_ you!" Yin screamed at him.

He was half-tempted to make a smart remark on how he wouldn't have allowed it, but Yin's distraught feelings made him reconsider. "I realize that. And I'm sorry; I didn't want you to know I'd been hurt. I didn't want you to worry. Although . . . it feels nice to know that someone cares that much." He hesitated, then laid his hand over hers. "No one has for so long."

Yin was ready to yell at him again, but reconsidered at his last statement. Instead, she rested her other hand on his. "I'm sorry I caused you to sit up so abruptly like that. I should have had more faith in you." She peered at him. "You really went to ask Batman to tell me?"

"Yes. He'd already been thinking of it, but Mr. Pennyworth and I convinced him to go ahead."

"Thank you," Yin said in moved surprise.

The Riddler hesitated again, looking at her. "Tell me. Are you angry I didn't tell you who Batman is?"

"No," Yin replied. "Not if your motives went deeper than keeping a riddle alive. Actually, I respect you a lot more for not telling anyone, even me."

He relaxed and smiled. "I can promise you, those were not my only motives."

"Good," Yin declared. "But I should let you get some sleep. Do you need help getting to the back room?"

"I can manage," he tried to assure her. Using his cane for leverage, he eased himself up and stumbled and limped to the panel.

Cringing, Yin went with him. "You're hurt worse than you're trying to make me think," she accused.

"Sometimes even perfectly unblemished people stumble when getting up," the Riddler replied, opening the panel via his cane.

"You should know I won't buy that after knowing you were in a bad fight," Yin said.

"Of course you won't," he said. He went inside, crossing the room to collapse on the bed.

Yin followed him. "Is anyone here in case you need anything?"

"Yes." He leaned the cane against the wall and sank into the mattress, closing his eyes.

"There might be a raid on Arkham tomorrow," Yin said, "if the commissioner and the district attorney agree. Riddler, whatever you do, don't you dare go after Scarecrow or Crane or anyone by yourself again."

"I wasn't alone; I took two Riddlemen." But he gave a tired smirk before she could retort. "I doubt I'll be up for any more confrontations for a few hours, anyway."

"I probably shouldn't, but I'll let you know if there's going to be a raid," Yin told him. "That is, if you'll just let the police handle it."

"Do you think Batman will stay away?" the Riddler replied.

"I doubt it," Yin sighed. "But at least he isn't hurt!"

"I won't physically involve myself again," the Riddler said. "I promise."

"But you'll probably do something like hack into Arkham's computer mainframe and manipulate things like the security cameras and the gates," Yin deduced.

"You might be grateful for that help, Yinsey," he said. "Just like when I helped you and Batman get away from Rojas and his men."

"Yeah, only that time your motives were a lot less noble," Yin remarked dryly.

"Granted." He sighed and laid back, his hand returning to his side.

Yin straightened, sensing that the conversation was wearying him. "I won't keep you talking. Try to get some good sleep." She rested her hand briefly on the shoulder she thought was uninjured before turning to go.

"Goodnight," he mumbled.

Yin paused at the doorway, finally smiling a bit. "Goodnight."

xxxx

The digital recorder clicked off as it came to the end of Batman's conversation with Penguin. For a moment, silence reigned in the office.

The sound of a coin flipping into the air broke it. "So that's what's going down at Arkham this time." Assistant district attorney Harvey Dent frowned, deeply displeased as he perched on the edge of the desk.

"You can see why I felt it necessary to get you both up in the middle of the night," Batman said.

Commissioner Gordon's eyebrows knitted in his concern. "This is outrageous. Experimenting on the inmates instead of trying to help them?! Locking them up and exposing them to fear-inducing gas for hours at a time?" He shook his head. "There's no way they can try to justify that as a new method of rehabilitation."

"So what do you think, Commissioner? Mr. Dent?" Batman looked back and forth between the two men. "Is there enough to raid Arkham Asylum?"

Commissioner Gordon would agree with him, he was sure. And Gordon had assured him that Harvey Dent was a good man. Batman was admittedly impressed with Dent's track record in court, and he was relieved that Dent didn't show any serious inclination to stop Batman from fighting crime, but he wasn't sure that the young and promising assistant district attorney would be sold.

Indeed, Dent still looked unconvinced. "Is Mr. Cobblepot willing to go into court and testify against these people?"

Batman sighed. "He is, but only in return for protection and immunity."

"Well, we'd know his price would be something like that." Gordon sighed as well, crossing his arms. "I for one would be willing to pay it to get these nutcases brought to justice."

"I think it's very likely that at least one current Arkham inmate would also be willing to help us," Batman said. "I've been in touch with Detective Ellen Yin. She says that Ethan Bennett has been behaving oddly and likely knows something about the experimentation, but has been threatened against speaking out about it."

Dent perked up. "Another witness would definitely help tip things in our favor."

"I agree," Gordon said. "And I don't think we should let those people run Arkham for another hour. I'm going to authorize the raid." He reached for the telephone.

"The majority of the staff might need to be replaced," Batman pointed out. "This is so widespread, according to Penguin's testimony and Bennett's behavior, that I can't believe Portman and Crane and a few guards are the only ones who know about it."

"There will be a thorough investigation on everyone," Gordon assured him.

"Did you ever hear back from your undercover agent?" Batman wondered.

"No," Gordon admitted. "Detective Yin tried to watch for her when she was there, but without any luck. We don't even know if our agent is still alive."

"She could even be an inmate now herself, if she was found out," Dent said.

"I know," Batman said.

xxxx

Gordon and Dent were good on their word. Within an hour, the raid was set up and scheduled. Yin would be part of the team set to go in. Batman, despite not being given an official role in the drama, had no intention of staying behind. So, while the police charged over the bridge and burst onto Arkham property, Batman quietly glided to the back of the gothic old building and slipped in through a window.

The brick halls all looked similar and it took Batman a moment to properly orient himself. He had appointed himself a special task, that of getting Ethan out of there before Crane or Portman could decide that he was too much of a liability and try to kill him before he could be rescued by the police for testifying.

As he ran down the hall, however, a groan from a room on his right brought his attention in that direction. Quickly he went over, peering through the small, barred window. "Joker?" he said in disbelief.

His archenemy was lying in the cell on his side, seeming pained. When he saw Batman, he knelt up with a start. "Batsy?!"

Batman frowned. "What happened to you?" he demanded.

"Oh, it was terrible! _Terrible!_" Joker overdramatically held the back of his hand to his forehead. Then, snapping to, he looked at Batman with urgency. "I was . . . I was . . . _sane!_" He spit the word out as though it tasted rotten.

Batman just stared. _That _was Joker's worst fear?

Well, it fit, he supposed.

"I'm not, am I?" Joker looked around the room, his long hair flying with the motion, and then turned back to Batman.

"No," Batman said flatly.

Joker gave a happy sigh and spread his arms wide. "What a relief! How would I spread mirth and mayhem all over Gotham if I wasn't crazy?!"

Batman ignored that. "Why did you think you were sane?"

"It's what I saw when Crane put me in that room!" Joker replied. "Oh, it didn't start in at first. Actually, it was hilarious how he kept trying to get me afraid of something. But then . . . _then_ I saw _it!_" He shuddered.

"Was Dr. Portman involved too?" Batman asked.

"Probably, but I didn't see her. Just Crane." Joker started when the alarm suddenly rang out through the building. "Hey, what's happening?!"

"Police raid," Batman said, turning away. He fled down the hall, praying he wasn't too late to rescue Ethan.

xxxx

The Riddler had been in deep thought ever since hanging up the phone. True to her word, Yin had told him the raid was on, and going down tonight instead of tomorrow. She had also made him reaffirm his promise not to go there.

Well, he had no intention of that. But at the same time, he didn't want the police to just rush in and grab Crane. If Crane was Scarecrow, and it seemed almost certain that he was, then the Riddler was still bitter and angry and wanted to take him down himself. And he had been plotting the perfect way to do it.

Anyway, Crane would probably have a few tricks to use on the police. The Riddler wouldn't be surprised if they wouldn't be able to get the doctor at all. But perhaps . . . perhaps the Riddler could catch him off-guard.

With his plan now forming, he took up the phone and dialed Dr. Crane's extension.

It took nearly eight rings before there was a pick-up. "Hello?!"

The Riddler began to smirk. He could hear the alarm and the shouting and the commotion over the sound of Crane's occupied voice. The raid was already taking place.

"My, Doctor," he purred. "It sounds like I picked a bad time to call."

"I wouldn't have answered if I hadn't seen it was you, Edward." There was a scuffling noise and Crane clearly moving across the floor with the phone.

"I'm honored. I'm wondering if it would be possible to hear more about that offer you made to me yesterday."

"You can't come here," Crane exclaimed.

"I don't want to. Actually, I thought perhaps we could meet at my office?"

"I know where it is. I'm coming." With that the phone abruptly went dead.

The Riddler frowned as he set the phone aside. Crane was many things, but he wasn't stupid. If he were Scarecrow, he already knew the Riddler believed they were one and the same. Surely he would know that the Riddler wouldn't ask him here for any legitimate reason.

Still, if Arkham was under police attack, he would probably take any out he could get, even a probable trap. Maybe he hoped to overpower the Riddler while he was still weakened from their fight.

On that, he would be disappointed.

Grabbing his cane, the Riddler pushed himself off the bed and moved slowly across the room to settle at the console. It would just take a few minor adjustments. By the time Crane arrived, the Riddler would be ready for him.

"No one crosses me and gets away with it," he said darkly as he typed. "This time, _I_ will have the last laugh."

xxxx

Arkham Asylum was in utter pandemonium. The staff ran to and fro, trying to escape the police assault, and any patients who could get away were trying to. The police had anticipated that, and while they were rounding up the staff members, they had to keep hold of the inmates as well.

Dr. Portman's lip curled as she pressed a button and vanished through a secret panel in her office. This was a twist she had admittedly not planned on.

"Hello, Doctor."

She started at the sound of Crane's voice. "So," she sneered, "you know of this place as well."

"I know that it's probably your fault we're being forced to escape," Crane retorted. "Penguin must have talked. Why else would the police be here?"

"If Penguin started to talk, he would be dead," Portman countered. "If anything, it's most likely your fault for rampaging through Gotham. Maybe The Batman followed you back here and then had the commissioner arrange this little raid."

"No one followed me!" Crane whipped a vial out from under his suit coat. "And I'm sorry, Doctor, but I can't have you coming with me. This little partnership is at an end."

Portman took a step back. "You're mad! We'd have a better chance of escape if we go together."

"I have some unfinished business to take care of first. Alone." Crane sprayed Portman with the contents of the vial. Holding a hand to his face, he turned and pulled on his Scarecrow mask. Then, applying the other parts of the costume piece by piece, while Portman stumbled in the dark and screamed, he fled down another corridor of the secret passage.

"So your worst fear is not having anyone left to experiment on," he sneered to himself, hearing the woman's raucous cries. "Once you're a patient in Arkham instead of a doctor, that fear will come true."

Within moments, a majestic black horse was galloping through an underground tunnel, the Scarecrow's silhouette eerily contrasted against the torch-lit walls.

xxxx

Ethan was tense and worried at the commotion all around him. Poison Ivy was taking advantage of the madness to try to break free from her cell, but it had been reinforced and she was not having much luck.

And then Batman appeared on the scene. "Bennett!" He relaxed, seeing that Ethan was still safe. Quickly he went about unlocking the door, using keys he had procured from a corrupt guard.

"Bats!" Ethan said in surprise. "What's going on?"

"I'm getting you out of here while it's still safe," Batman replied.

"Well, that's cool and all, but I don't think it'll help my track record any," Ethan frowned.

"I'll make sure they know you didn't escape on your own. You're needed as a witness against some of the Arkham staff." Batman took hold of Ethan's arm as he stepped out, ignoring the angry calls from the other prisoners on the block who also wanted to be free.

Ethan suddenly regarded Batman in suspicion. "Whoa. What makes you think I know anything about the staff?"

"Everyone here knows something, I'm betting," Batman said. "But you're more likely to talk than most of the rest of them."

They ran down the hall, Batman heading for the nearest window.

"You're right there," Ethan admitted. "I could tell some horror stories. But only if I'm sure they're not gonna be able to hurt anyone else."

"The police are rounding them up now," Batman said. Reaching the window, he shot out the Bathook and waited for it to catch before grabbing Ethan around the waist and leaping into the windowsill. "Hold onto me," he instructed.

Ethan yelped in shock as they swung out of the window and over to a tree on the grounds. Then they were flying again, into another tree and then over the wall. But as they climbed down, he grinned. "That was kind of cool."

Batman deadpanned. "I'll get you off the grounds and to a place where you'll be safe until everything settles down here. But you'll have to share the space with Penguin."

"Penguin?" Ethan blinked. "So he's okay?"

"As okay as he can be." Batman pressed a button and the Batmobile rushed to their location.

Ethan stared at it with goggle-eyed fascination. "We're really gonna take this?"

"Fastest way there." Batman waited for Ethan to get in and then went around to the driver's side.

Ethan leaned back, admiring the machinery of a car he had been intrigued about from the first day he had seen it. "Sweet ride."

In spite of the tense situation, Batman had to smile to himself. He would have trusted Ethan with so many things, if the Joker hadn't interfered and melted Ethan's mind. Maybe now, Batman would finally be able to extend that overdue trust to his friend.

"Hey, Bats." Ethan was serious now. "I want you to know I'm real sorry for all the times I came after you. You know, as Clayface." He frowned. "I was all mixed up. I . . ." He trailed off. "I can still hardly believe some of the things I said and did back then."

"You don't have to apologize," Batman said. "It's the Joker who's to blame."

"Oh, speaking of Joker . . ." Ethan looked worried. "Crane went after him tonight."

"I know. He'll be safe now."

"I hope so. But man, I just don't get what Crane's kick is. Why is he experimenting on everyone?"

"He's a sick man," Batman said.

"He probably needs to be locked up in Arkham, just like Hugo Strange," Ethan commented.

"He will be," Batman said. "Or locked up somewhere else."

"Speaking of that, is everyone in Arkham going to need to be relocated until they figure out who's fit to be on the staff and who ain't?"

"I don't know. That's possible." Batman frowned. There weren't any other mental institutions close by. And transporting so many dangerous inmates a long distance was just asking for trouble. He hoped there would be another solution.

"I sure hope they'll figure something else out," Ethan said, voicing Batman's concerns.

"So many mistakes have already been made in how Arkham Asylum is run," Batman said. "Sometimes I wonder if I've contributed to those mistakes by helping send people there."

"Hey, Bats, you're just doing the best thing you know to do," Ethan said. "Those people sure can't be out on the streets. And most of them don't belong in a real prison, you know? Arkham is the only other place for them."

"I know. I just wish it could be a place where better treatment options are available," Batman said.

"I bet Bruce would be willing to help finance the money for better treatment," Ethan said. "And better doctors. I could talk to him about it when this is over."

Batman smiled a bit. "You do that."

xxxx

The Riddler leaned back in his chair, smirking a bit to himself as he drank from a glass of water at the side of the desk. In one way this was déjà vu; he couldn't help but remember when he had sat waiting for Gorman to come home to force him into an obstacle course. Now he was doing the same thing, waiting for Jonathan Crane to arrive and anticipating it almost as much.

A Riddleman and his Riddlewoman stood by on either side of the chair, waiting and watching with him. They were quiet as usual, withholding speech unless he spoke or unless they had burning questions that they wanted answered right away. But they were interested even when silent.

"What are you planning to do with him, Sir?" the Riddlewoman asked at last.

"Oh . . . play around with him for a while, until he's fully aware of my displeasure and has begun to truly pay for causing it." The Riddler smiled. "Naturally I'll turn him over to The Batman and Yinsey after a while. They'll want him in custody."

The Riddlewoman nodded, not surprised. "They might not like you doing any of this with him," she pointed out.

"Probably not, but maybe they'll at least be grateful that I'm keeping him from running away," the Riddler smirked.

He came to attention as the front door slowly opened. The large console screen, currently serving as a security camera feed, showed a strange figure coming into the office. A strange and all too familiar figure.

"The Scarecrow," the Riddler mused under his breath. "The final proof that he is Crane." He narrowed his eyes. "After inviting Crane here, I most certainly don't believe that the Scarecrow appearing is sheer coincidence."

He pressed a button, causing the floor underneath Scarecrow to open up. With a surprised yelp, the character fell down a slanted tunnel and landed in a darkened room in the basement.

"Good evening, Dr. Crane," the Riddler purred, his voice echoing on the loudspeakers installed downstairs. "Let's forget all these silly pretenses, shall we? You _are_ Dr. Crane and I am the one you have repeatedly betrayed, in spite of your attempts to convince me that you care about me. This time, you're not going to get away with it."

Scarecrow knelt up in the tunnel, not seeming especially bothered by his predicament. Instead, to the Riddlewoman's dismay, he seemed intrigued and entertained. "What are you going to do to me, Edward?" he asked.

"I'm going to try a little experiment. You see, I remember that there was always one thing that Jonathan Crane seemed to be afraid of. No matter what fears he weaned himself off of, he could never quite stop fearing certain small, winged rodents." The Riddler typed a command into the console. Downstairs, a panel opened and several mechanical, yet extremely realistic, bats flew out.

Scarecrow yelped, covering his face as they came at him. For a moment he cowered there, trembling, flinching every time a bat smacked his arm or nearly became tangled in his blond wig.

"How does it feel, Doctor?" the Riddler sneered. "Your worst fear is all around you, inescapable. No matter where you go down there, the bats will follow you. You despise them, but they can't get enough of you."

Slowly Scarecrow got to his feet, shaking as he tried to disengage a bat from his wig. But as he threw it aside at last, he faced the camera and laughed. "You're right, Edward! I do still fear bats. What you don't realize is that I can't get enough of being afraid."

"What?" The Riddler leaned forward, staring at his captive. "You _enjoy_ being afraid?!"

"Many people do, to some extent. Why do you think horror films are perennially popular?"

"Somehow this seems different than that," the Riddler said dryly.

"It's just a more extreme version of the same principle." Scarecrow's red eyes gleamed. "Everyone else is afraid of many things, and I can bring them all out with a simple whiff of my fear gas. I can revel in their horror. But meanwhile, I only fear this one thing. It makes it very difficult to fully have my fill of personal terror. Thank you, Edward! Now you're helping give it to me."

The Riddler's eyes widened. He fell back in disbelief, staring at the screen. "What have I done?" he gasped. "What madness have I unleashed now?"

Quickly snapping to, he typed another series of commands. The bats flew up and vanished the way they had come.

"Alright, Doctor," he said. "Obviously I don't want to give you something you actually want. There won't be any more bats. But I won't let you escape. You'll be forced to wander through my basement until such time that I see fit to let you go."

"Which would be when the police arrive," Scarecrow deduced. He grinned. "I know about your booby traps and the riddles that they control. Let's play your game, Edward. Let's see if I can beat your course before the police and The Batman come."

The Riddler glowered. "Very well," he said coldly. "But you should know, this is an anti-burglar system. It's very long and winding and isn't easy to beat."

"A challenge, then." Scarecrow unwound his chain, snapping it on the wall near the camera. "Let's go."

The Riddler typed a command that released the first trap. "Try to contact Detective Yin," he said quietly to the Riddlewoman. "She's probably still at Arkham."

She nodded and hurried off.

"Meanwhile . . ." He started to smirk. "I'll just have some fun with this."

Even if Crane managed to play through the entire course—and he very well might—the Riddler would see to it that he would not get away so easily. He would not be outsmarted again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes: I'm a little surprised by how this chapter ended up coming out, but I'm pretty happy with it.**

**Chapter Nine**

Things seemed to have quieted down at Arkham by the time Batman drove back. He pulled in where he wouldn't obstruct the police cars that were still driving back and forth over the bridge and got out, quickly hurrying over to where Yin was speaking into a walkie-talkie next to her police car.

She looked up as he approached. "The staff is all either in custody or relieved of their duties," she reported. "Temporary staff is coming in now. We're running a patient count."

"You won't find Ethan," Batman told her. "I got him away in case Portman or Crane would decide he was a liability."

Yin nodded. "I was hoping that was the case. But speaking of Portman and Crane, we can't find either one of them."

Batman's eyes narrowed. "That's not good."

"That's an understatement. And I was kind of surprised Riddler didn't do anything with the computer mainframe." Yin put her walkie-talkie on her belt. "Scarecrow beat him up tonight; I knew he was hurt worse than he tried to make me believe!"

Batman considered that. "Maybe he didn't think his services were needed. Or maybe . . . maybe he decided to use them in a different way."

"How?" Yin wondered.

"After what Crane did to him, do you really think he would sit back and let the police arrest his enemy without at least trying again to get back at Crane?"

Yin slapped her forehead. "So Crane might be at Riddler's place? _Augh!_ That man is going to get himself killed!"

"Who—Crane or Nygma?" Batman grunted, turning around to go back to the Batmobile.

"I was thinking of Riddler." Yin barked an order at another police officer and chased after Batman. "And after he promised not to get himself physically involved in this mess!"

"Maybe he kept his promise." Batman kept walking, not looking at Yin. "We don't know what other secrets he has at his office."

"And one of them might be an obstacle course or deathtrap in the building?" Yin clenched her fists. "You're probably right."

"Try calling him," Batman encouraged.

Yin was just taking out her phone when it rang. Quickly she put it to her ear. "Hello?"

"The Riddler wants you to come," the Riddlewoman announced. "He's keeping Scarecrow in the basement."

Yin gripped the phone. "Oh, I'm coming, alright," she said. "You can tell him that. And Batman's coming too." She paused. "Tell me honestly. Is he in danger?"

"Not unless Scarecrow plays through the whole course and gets out."

"There's no way out unless he plays?" Yin demanded.

"Well . . ." The Riddlewoman hesitated and Yin's heart skipped a beat. "There _are_ emergency exits. You know, like if the Riddler himself ever got trapped and the place was being used against him for some reason, he wanted to know he could get out."

"Are they easy to find?" Yin kept talking as they reached the Batmobile and she leaped in. Batman got in as well and started the engine.

"Not really. He didn't want anyone else to find them."

"I bet Scarecrow might," Yin said darkly. "Don't leave your boss for one moment. Is anyone else there?"

"One other. He usually has us around in shifts of two, unless he wants us all at once for something."

"Get the others if you can," Yin instructed. "We're leaving right now. It should take us fifteen or twenty minutes to get there."

"You'll probably get here before I can reach everybody," the Riddlewoman retorted. "But Scarecrow's only one man."

"So is the Riddler," Yin replied. "I know he has lots of tricks up his sleeve, but Scarecrow has his fear gas and who knows what else. He already overpowered two of your friends and beat up your boss. Think about that." She hung up.

Batman was driving at the absolute speed limit. Although he continued to stare ahead, seemingly focused completely on the road, Yin was sure he had heard every word of her part of the exchange.

"It's funny, you know," Yin said after a moment. "Several months ago, if this situation was going on, I'd figure they were equal madmen and it wouldn't matter much which of them came out of it alright. And now I know they're not equal and I don't want Scarecrow to win. I'm worried about Riddler. At the same time, I want to punch him out for pulling this stunt and for making me worry." She rubbed her forehead. "But I don't really want to hurt him."

"You've been getting to know him well," Batman commented. "Of course, by luring Crane out there and trapping him in the basement, he's technically breaking the law right now."

"So are you, every night," Yin replied dryly. "Scarecrow is such a danger to everyone in the city. I don't think most people here will mind too much on how Riddler is detaining him. He really might have escaped if Riddler hadn't called him. Anyway, I bet Scarecrow knew Riddler was planning something. He probably deliberately went out there to finish him off. Why else would he go as Scarecrow when Riddler called Crane?"

Batman nodded. "I agree with you. I'm sure Nygma wasn't trying to and didn't fool him."

"So now we have to figure out how to get Scarecrow without putting Riddler in any more danger," Yin said.

"We might have to go through Nygma's obstacle course ourselves," Batman said.

"Or maybe surprise Scarecrow at one of the emergency exits," Yin suggested.

"Or at the end of the course. It depends on what's happening by the time we get there."

Yin gripped the armrest. It wouldn't take long to drive there, but in a tense situation, even a few minutes could be an eternity.

Hopefully the Riddler would be able to control Scarecrow until then.

xxxx

The Riddler was on high alert. It had been amusing putting Scarecrow through the paces and giving him riddles, but he could tell the madman was restless and constantly looking for a way out. In an attempt to slow down his progress, the Riddler dimmed the basement lights as much as he could.

"Now, Jonny, tell me," he purred. "What has leaves but no branches?"

If Scarecrow objected to the Riddler switching to using such a familiar nickname, he didn't show it. Instead he unfurled his chain with a maniacal grin. "A tree that's been chopped to pieces," he hissed. The chain flew, hooking around the camera near the ceiling. With one sharp pull, the camera sizzled and crackled and the picture faded into snow.

The Riddler cursed in his mind. "He's trying to escape," he informed his lackeys. "He doesn't want me to see him do it."

As if on cue, an alarm abruptly echoed throughout the building. The Riddler leaped up, while his Riddleman and Riddlewoman jumped a mile.

"He found one of the emergency exits," the Riddler noted. "He'll be coming back up here." He looked to the computer screen, which had switched to showing which exit had just been used. His employees, seeing it as well, rushed through a door into the corridor beyond. Taking up his cane, the Riddler followed.

Scarecrow burst through a hidden door almost as soon as his enemies arrived on the scene. Half-expecting it but still angry, he shot out his chain and caught hold of the Riddleman's staff, pulling it to the floor with a clatter.

Next, the Riddlewoman lunged, managing to shock him with the taser on the end of her staff. He stumbled back, crashing into the wall, and the Riddler limped forward.

"Well, congratulations, Jonny," he said darkly. "You managed to find one of several possible ways out. Unfortunately for you, this is as far as you're going to get—until you're taken back to Arkham as a new patient."

Scarecrow held a hand over his chest, still recovering from the mild shock. "You realize I could probably sue you for putting me in this hostage situation," he said.

"Yes, you probably could," the Riddler replied. "And with a shady lawyer, you'd manage to win. You'd just have to avoid mentioning that you came here of your own free will, already knowing I was out for vengeance, and that you were planning, unlike me with you, to quite literally spill my blood." He leaned on his cane. "I'd say that a truly fair judge would have to consider us both at fault, you perhaps moreso."

"There aren't any truly fair judges, here or anywhere else," Scarecrow said.

"I can think of a few who would be very adamantly opposed to that statement," the Riddler said.

Scarecrow pushed himself away from the wall. "In any case, you're right about why I came, Edward." He pulled a shiny object out of his pocket and unfolded it into a deadly blade, which he snapped onto the final links of the chain. The Riddlewoman and Riddleman tensed.

"If you're going to kill me because I know who you are, there are others who have figured it out too," the Riddler warned.

"I don't have any such mundane motivation in mind," Scarecrow said. "You know how much I enjoy vengeance. I killed every one of the people who tormented me when I was growing up." He sneered. "And I relished every moment of it."

"Your thirst for vengeance is far greater than mine," the Riddler said, admittedly disturbed. "I left most of my tormentors alone."

"And that is why I will win, Edward. I don't hold back and I don't leave anyone alone." Scarecrow leaped into the air, flinging his modified chain ahead of him.

The Riddlewoman dived out of the way, as did the Riddler. The Riddleman met Scarecrow head-on, trying to touch the electrified end of his staff to the blade. It worked, briefly, and Scarecrow shouted in pain as the electricity coursed into his body. He collapsed to the floor and the Riddleman started to push the now-limp chain away from its owner.

Suddenly Scarecrow came to life, wrapping the chain around the Riddleman's legs. He went down and Scarecrow struggled up, cackling madly. He swiftly unwound the chain, enjoying the sound of the blade tearing into the Riddleman's clothes and flesh as it went. With another swoop he cut into the downed man's back, reveling in his shout of pain.

The Riddlewoman gave a cry, flying into action. She attacked Scarecrow from the side, striking him with the force of the staff. He fell back but almost immediately recovered, kicking her hard in the stomach. She crashed into the wall near the Riddler and slumped to the floor, unconscious from striking her head.

Scarecrow sneered. "So now it's just you and I once again," he said. "Only you're too injured to be a challenge. Not that you were challenging earlier."

"We'll see." Shielding his eyes, the Riddler activated the bright green beam in his cane. Momentarily blinded, Scarecrow yelped in surprise and turned away.

"Conceding defeat so quickly?" The Riddler lunged, pressing the button to release a cloud of sleeping gas.

Scarecrow covered his nose and mouth. "Not until your lifeless body is lying bleeding at my feet!" He attacked without warning, attempting to wrap the chain around the Riddler's neck.

The Riddler held him back with the cane, raising it to protect himself and suddenly swinging it right at his enemy.

Scarecrow jumped back. "You're thinking rather fast on your feet, considering what I did to you earlier," he said. "But I can't help but notice that you're reluctant to do anything other than let that cane fight for you. I hurt you enough that physically fighting me is an impossibility for you right now. And if your pathetic hired hands can't help you, it won't take me long to engineer your death."

"Wrong, Scarecrow. Drop it! _Now!_"

Both Scarecrow and the Riddler started and turned to look. Yin was standing in the doorway, her gun clutched in her hands and pointed at Scarecrow. Batman was right behind her, holding a Batarang.

Instead of being intimidated, Scarecrow started to laugh. "So now the gang's all here," he observed. "You came to rescue your friend. Or maybe I should say, you came to see to my defeat and arrest. After all, that's all that really concerns you. You don't _really_ care about Edward."

"You don't know anything about me," Yin said coldly.

"I know that caring and love are illusions created to make people feel good about themselves. You try to convince Edward he means something to you. Maybe you even believe that yourself right now. But someday, you'll wake up to the truth and then you'll leave him high and dry."

"You think that because you know that's how you are," Batman said. "Maybe someone hurt you so bad in the past that now you can't believe that there isn't anyone who isn't selfish. But that doesn't mean it's true."

"I already said I know Yin cares about me," the Riddler said. "It isn't an act."

"What about you for her?" Scarecrow replied without skipping a beat. "Maybe she's just a convenient way for you to get what you want."

"That isn't true either!" the Riddler shot back. "I don't use anyone who genuinely cares about me."

"Are you sure you don't presume a lot on this supposed friendship?" Scarecrow said cleverly. "Getting her to come out here, for example."

"That didn't have anything to do with friendship," the Riddler insisted. "She would have come anyway. I knew she wanted to see you arrested. And I felt she would have her own score to settle with you."

"So you were giving her a chance to do that. Isn't that nice."

Yin was annoyed. "This analysis has gone on long enough. We don't owe you any explanations for anything." She stepped into the room. "Come on, Crane. Put the chain down."

Batman followed her in. "Do what she says or you'll regret it."

"Oh, pardon me." Scarecrow lowered the chain to the floor. At the same moment, he deliberately threw a vial at the tiles and let it break. An all-too-familiar cloud immediately filled the hallway.

"Fear gas!" Yin choked. Her eyes watered and she tried to cover her nose and mouth with a shaking hand. It was no use.

_The Riddler laughed at her, sneering, straightening to his full height instead of leaning on his cane. "You know, Jonny's right," he said. "I've just been using you, Yinsey. You've always been my perfect bait to get to The Batman. He was the one who interested me. Matching wits with the Dark Knight has added spice to my life that wasn't there before. I have to thank you for opening the door to that privilege. Unfortunately, you really mean nothing to me except for that."_

Batman was reaching for his breathers, but he froze as the horrible visions began to creep over him again.

_His parents were disappointed in him. . . . They didn't understand. . . . Or maybe they were right; he hadn't saved anyone. Gotham was being destroyed. Yin and Nygma were lying dead at his feet, two more he had failed to save. Up ahead, Alfred, Robin, and Batgirl were dead as well, sprawled helpless on the sidewalk as their blood stained it a deep and accusing crimson._

The Riddler coughed, falling heavily against the wall.

_His father was beating him again, berating his failure to stop Scarecrow. . . . Then suddenly Yin was there as well, observing but not stopping the assault. Instead she turned her gun on him. "Riddler, I was wrong about you. I really knew that, deep down. I never should have trusted you. I'm not going to trust any criminals again, ever. I'm going to adopt Chief Rojas's No Tolerance For Freaks policy. And you're going to be its first fatality." She fired._

"No," Batman gasped. "This isn't real. None of what we're seeing is real. We all know that. Fight it! _Fight it!_"

Yin and the Riddler were each already struggling against the false images. Yin snapped to first and ran at Scarecrow, even as she coughed from the lingering gas. "This is it, Scarecrow! You're going down!" She sprang into the air, kicking him hard and sending him flying backwards, right into Batman's waiting arms.

The Riddler coughed again. "He's . . . afraid of . . . bats," he rasped.

Batman glowered at Scarecrow, who was tensing in his grasp. "Well, Dr. Crane? How does it feel, to be caught by a giant bat?"

"It feels terrifying." Scarecrow straightened, his eyes wild. "And _that_ feels marvelous!"

Caught off-guard, Batman gasped as Scarecrow's chain blade dug into his chest. Scarecrow tore himself away in the next moment, whirling to face Yin. In one swift movement he had the chain wrapped around her, binding her arms to her sides.

"I'd really like to keep this experience going for as long as possible," he said, pulling it taut. "I can never get enough of the rush that comes with tormenting my enemies."

Yin clenched her teeth in pain, the links pressing against her clothes and into her flesh. "And then what, Scarecrow? You can't torture us forever. Riddler and I and Batman all have backup coming."

"By the time they arrive, you'll all be dead." Scarecrow produced a pair of garden shears and aimed at Yin's heart. The sharp tips cut into her jacket and shirt and started to draw blood as her skin was reached.

And then the Riddler was leaping out of the darkness, sweeping his cane across Scarecrow's neck and pressing it down. "I got us all into this mess because of my desire for vengeance," he growled, stepping backwards and drawing a choking Scarecrow with him by force. The garden shears clattered to the floor. "No more of this. I'll make it right."

In a moment he had Scarecrow on the floor and was straddling him, still keeping the cane against his throat. "It's one thing to endanger myself," he said darkly. "But I've also endangered people who care what happens to me. That is unforgivable."

"Riddler!" Yin called, running forward. "Let him go. Don't do something you can't take back."

The Riddler never looked away from Scarecrow, his eyes narrowed, as he replied, "Really, Yinsey, nothing in life can be taken back. Once it's done, it's done. Even this." He pressed a button on the cane, releasing the sleeping gas.

Scarecrow coughed and started to go limp. The Riddler eased the pressure, moving to back off of the other man's body.

"Wait!" Batman exclaimed. "That won't work, Nygma. He's . . ."

Without warning Scarecrow sprang to life, the Riddlewoman's fallen staff in his hands. "My mask protects me from all gasses," he crowed. "But I'm afraid, Edward, that nothing will protect you now." He shoved the staff point-blank at the Riddler as he held the button, releasing a powerful and lasting blast of electricity directly into his former student's body.

The Riddler screamed.

Yin screamed as well. "No!" She leaped onto Scarecrow's back, pulling him away. At the same moment, a Batarang sent the staff flying several yards. Batman ran forward, seizing Scarecrow's wrists while he struggled with Yin. With a flourish Batman snapped on the handcuffs.

Yin left the madman in Batman's care for the moment. Instead she rushed past him, falling to her knees where the Riddler had collapsed on his side. "Riddler! Riddler, no. You are _not_ doing this to me. You are not dying this time. No." She turned him onto his back and bent down, listening frantically for a heartbeat.

"I'm alright, Yin."

She looked up with a start. He was watching her with half-open eyes and a slight smile, which turned into a smirk. "I've been electrocuted so many times by now, I must be starting to get used to it."

Yin wasn't sure whether to laugh or yell. Finally she opted to help him sit up and then pull him into a firm embrace. "Don't let that happen again," she ordered.

Stunned at first, the Riddler slowly brought his arms around Yin. "I don't plan to," he said. "Certainly not because of a desire for vengeance. I never should have involved you."

"You wouldn't have, if you hadn't thought you could hold him until we got here," Yin said.

The Riddler paused, considering her words. "You're right," he admitted. 

Scarecrow scowled. "Of all the preposterous . . . !"

"You _would_ think that was preposterous, wouldn't you," Batman said as he hauled Scarecrow up. "People caring about each other is something you just can't comprehend. In that respect, I feel sorry for you, Doctor."

"Don't, Batman," Scarecrow snarled. "There isn't any true kindness or love in the world. You'll learn that eventually. So will they."

Batman watched as Yin helped the Riddler up, letting him lean on her as he wobbled. "I don't think they're in the mood to learn that lesson. They're too busy worrying about each other."

And he smiled a bit.

xxxx

Twenty minutes later, a squad car arrived to take Jonathan Crane, a.k.a. the Scarecrow, into police custody. The Riddler was again lying on the bed in his tech room, while his Riddleman and Riddlewoman, also recovering from the fight, were sprawled on the assorted couches.

"I'm alright, really," the Riddler tried to assure a concerned and watchful Yin. "I couldn't have been unconscious for more than a minute. I think the worst thing I did was to aggravate these bumps and bruises again." He winced.

Yin sighed. "Maybe from now on, you shouldn't equip your henchmen with electrically-charged staffs."

"Any weapon could be used against me," he answered. "I won't have them unarmed."

"Yeah, I guess they really shouldn't be," Yin said wryly, "if you don't plan on giving up your current line of work."

"Oh, but Yinsey, I just consult," he purred.

Yin rolled her eyes.

Observing from the doorway, Batman was deadpan. "Dr. Crane's on his way to Arkham," he announced.

"What's going to happen to Ethan?" Yin wondered. "And Penguin?"

"Ethan's case is going to be reviewed to see if he needs to continue treatment," Batman said. "Penguin will be in protective police custody until the hearing and trial."

"And there hasn't been any sign of Dr. Portman," Yin frowned.

"There hasn't. Crane admitted to assaulting her with his fear gas in a secret tunnel the police already found empty. I suspect he may have used a strong enough dose that he hoped to drive her even further out of her mind, if not to outright kill her." Batman narrowed his eyes. "But she must have had enough presence of mind to escape."

"I hate to think where she might end up," Yin said. "She's hurt more than enough people as it is."

"You know the police as well as I do," Batman said. "They won't give up until they have her in custody."

Yin nodded. "I don't like to think how Chief Rojas is going to react to everything that happened here tonight," she sighed. "Especially Riddler luring Crane out here."

"I don't think Rojas will cause any problems for Nygma," Batman said. "At least, not this time. As you said, Crane probably would have escaped just as Portman has, if Nygma hadn't given him the idea to come over. Crane _did_ come of his own free will, and with murder on his mind. No one was seriously hurt, and for his part in causing Crane to end up attacking us, Nygma paid a price."

"Anyway, I think Commissioner Gordon will probably give Rojas his spiel about how I helped bring in a dangerous criminal and it isn't wise to arrest a hero," the Riddler smirked.

Yin folded her arms. "He'll probably also give _you_ a spiel about not doing something like this again," she said.

"It won't happen again," the Riddler assured her. "Anyone else I've managed to subdue without calling in the police until after they're ready for arrest. I called you and Batman in on this because you both had a stake and an interest in Scarecrow's capture. He'd attacked both of you and that was personal for you as well as for me." He hesitated. "And maybe I wanted to be sure that you knew I wasn't out for blood, as he was."

Yin shook her head. "You look at the world a lot differently than Batman or I do," she said. "I don't think of things in terms of getting personal satisfaction after a wrong is committed against me. For example, I just wanted Scarecrow brought down, no matter who did it."

"Perhaps, but don't tell me you didn't want to personally bring me down the first time we met," he smiled. "You may have let Batman go after me without a fuss, but I'm quite sure you wished you were going after me and not my employees. They told me you said as much."

"You've got me there," she said. "Yeah, I wanted that."

"And I wanted to take you down both because I didn't want to put Detective Yin in that danger and because you'd made things personal," Batman said.

"So you both understand what I'm talking about, at least to some extent. I'm sure you both feel some level of satisfaction in knowing that you were part of bringing Scarecrow down."

Yin considered that and nodded. "You're right. And as far as you wanting us to know that you weren't bent on murder, I didn't think you were." She smiled a bit. "But I kind of like that you wanted to be sure that was clear."

Batman nodded in approval and turned to go. "My business here is done," he said. "I'll see you both later."

"Alright. Goodnight," Yin said.

"Goodbye," the Riddler added.

Batman left the room, his cape sweeping against the doorframe.

Yin looked to the Riddler once they were alone. "I was surprised about what you did back there," she said. "Realizing that maybe getting vengeance wasn't the best way to go about things, I mean."

"At least not if it's going to hurt other people as well," the Riddler frowned.

"The thing about taking vengeance is that it's _always_ going to hurt other people too, if they care about you," Yin pointed out. "They won't want to see you like that."

"That's a good point," the Riddler nodded. "I'm sorry for involving you. And Batman too, really."

"Well, maybe in the end, it took all of us to bring Scarecrow down," Yin said. "Maybe just one person wouldn't have been able to do it."

"Batman probably could have," the Riddler said. "But I'll admit it's much nicer to think that we played an important and necessary part." He leaned back into the pillow, closing his eyes.

Yin regarded him in slight bemusement. "Riddler . . . do you ever take that mask off?" She only knew his eyes had closed because of seeing the black of his eye shadow through the white of the mask's eyeholes.

He opened his eyes again. "Occasionally, when it's necessary."

"You didn't always wear it on the Friday Night Killer case," Yin noted. "But ever since your return from the dead, you've kept it on—at least that I've seen."

"Do you wish I didn't?"

"If you feel more comfortable with it on, that's fine." She paused. "I guess I just find that kind of sad. And I wish that you'd feel comfortable enough to take it off at least sometimes."

He reached up, pulling it off and revealing his blue eyes. "Like this?"

Yin smiled. "Yeah. Like that."

"I don't mind not wearing it. Sometimes. I guess I'm just more used to it now. Being without it reminds me of being powerless. Or in Arkham. Or both."

"Do you feel powerless now?" Yin asked.

"Strangely, no," the Riddler mused. "Maybe because you've already come to know me so well, it feels like the mask is pointless around you."

"You'll always have your mysteries," Yin said. "But I'm glad I solved at least a few of them."

"If anyone was going to, I'm glad it was you," the Riddler told her.

They remained there in silence for a few minutes, pondering on how things had changed between them, before either spoke again. "So I'm guessing you're not planning on changing the way you do your 'consulting' business any time soon," Yin remarked.

"Naturally not," the Riddler answered. "Why change what works? That's all business, anyway. With Scarecrow, I was getting too emotionally involved."

"I don't know," Yin mused. "I think you handled things pretty calmly. I can't say I agree with you getting him out here, but you _did_ try to plan it out instead of just being reckless about it."

"Hmm. True," the Riddler agreed. "Although I'm surprised to hear you admit that."

"Honestly? So am I," Yin retorted. "I thought coming to accept Batman challenged my views more than anything else ever could." She paused. "Maybe instead, coming to accept him helped prepare me to accept you."

The Riddler fell silent, absorbing that information. "Then I'm glad," he said.

Yin smiled. "Me too."


	10. Epilogue

**Notes: And so we reach the end of another multi-chapter adventure. I think this is a good spot to leave things in this series, with the protagonists all happy. I do have an idea for a story involving Harvey Dent that I might write, but right now my top interest for this fandom is a couple of amusing stories involving the Riddler encountering the world of the 1960's **_**Batman**_** TV series and his own counterpart from **_**The Animated Series.**_** I am unsure if those stories will connect to my mystery series or if they will take place prior to these events. Thank you for your interest! I'm glad that I was finally able to pick up the idea of a sequel to **_**Don't Go Out on Friday Night**_** and actually write it, and then this one too. It feels very fulfilling, to at last resolve that unfinished business after six years.**

**Epilogue**

Ethan smiled brightly as the courthouse doors opened and he stepped outside. It was an overcast, cold November day, but that couldn't have mattered less to him.

"Well, Ethan, you're free." Bruce smiled as he came alongside his old friend, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"And this time I'm gonna make it stick, Bruce," Ethan vowed. "I really will."

Yin walked up on Ethan's other side. "I know you will," she said fervently.

"You're more than welcome to come work for me while you're sorting out your life," Bruce said.

"Thanks, Bruce," Ethan said in all sincerity. "Being a security guard isn't really what I want out of life, but it's sure a better job than I'd be able to get anywhere else right now. I really am grateful. I'll take you up on that offer."

"And don't count out that idea of getting back on the force," Yin said. "After you've proved you can function in society again, Commissioner Gordon said he'd be willing to consider it."

"I'm bowled over that he's willing to think about it at all," Ethan declared. "After everything I did . . ." He shook his head.

"Well, you really have it going for you that you weren't in your right mind," Bruce said.

"And the Riddler has been able to get by without going back to supercrime," Yin said.

"I really feel for the dude, trying to start over and all," Ethan said. "I'm glad he seems to be making it. Where is he, anyway? I thought he might turn up."

Bruce looked down at the steps at a nearby lamppost. "It looks like he did."

Yin followed his gaze. Indeed, the Riddler was leaning against a lamppost, his hands in the pockets of his green winter coat. He was watching them, not wanting to intrude on the old friends' moment, but seeming pleased.

"I'll be right back," Yin said, heading down the steps and over to him.

"You know," she greeted as she approached, "with the white trim on that coat, you look like you bought an idea for part of an alternate Santa Claus suit."

He smirked. "Except that I don't intend to go around making merry next month by flying through the sky and down chimneys."

"No, that doesn't sound like you," Yin agreed. "But what are you doing down here?"

"This is your time with Ethan," he said. "I never really met him and I don't know him; I only saw him now and then in Arkham."

"There's no time like the present." Yin nodded towards Ethan. "Anyway, he'd like to meet you in peaceful circumstances for once."

The Riddler raised an eyebrow. "He would?"

"He likes to meet people who are important to his friends," Yin said. She rested a hand on his arm. "What do you say?"

"Well, I suppose it would be rude to wander off without saying Hello now," the Riddler remarked.

"It sure would." Linking arms with him, Yin led him up the stairs, where Ethan and Bruce met them halfway.

"Hello again," Bruce nodded politely.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," the Riddler said smoothly.

Yin turned to Ethan. "And you two haven't officially been introduced, even though you've seen each other around. Riddler, this is my friend Ethan. Ethan, this is my friend the Riddler."

"That's a sentence I never thought I'd hear in reality," the Riddler quipped.

"Me either." Ethan reached to shake hands. "But hey, any friend of Yin's." He smiled. "Good to meet you."

"Likewise," the Riddler answered.

Bruce stepped back and watched, enjoying the peaceful scene. The Riddler was free and seemed to be making good use of his life. Yin was happy. And now Ethan was free as well.

The Scarecrow had been committed to Arkham, which was slowly getting back under control with the information from the raid, the witnesses, and the now-found undercover agent, who had been hurt but was recovering. Arkham was hopefully stepping into a new era, thanks to the expert guidance of its growing new staff.

Crane had admitted that Ethan actually had seen him at Arkham on Halloween night, but earlier than nine. Portman had then slipped Ethan subliminal messages during their session that had confused him and made him think it had been nine instead, in order to give Crane an alibi for the time Scarecrow was on a rampage.

Portman was still at large, but Bruce had to hope that if not caught, she would lay low for a long while and not try to harm anyone else. He would not give up looking for her, but he had the feeling that she was long gone from the Gotham area altogether. From his research into her past, she never seemed to stay in one place for very long.

Penguin had offered his testimony at the hearing and trial, as he had committed to do, and now he was currently free. Bruce did not have the hope that Penguin would turn away from crime as Nygma mostly had, as Penguin did not possess the regret for that lifestyle that Nygma had shown. But Bruce hoped that if nothing else, Penguin would stay out of trouble for a good, long while. Since he had requested immunity, it seemed probable that he would at least appear to be living right for a while. Bruce would keep an eye on him.

Meanwhile, the city was currently calm and at peace. That didn't happen as much as Bruce would like. He would embrace it for all it was worth.

"You know," Ethan said suddenly, "I'm itching for a meal that wasn't prepared in the Arkham kitchen. Who's with me?"

"Lunch sounds great," Yin smiled.

"Do you even have any money, Ethan?" Bruce asked.

"They gave me a little to start my new life with," Ethan said. "I think a good meal with good friends is the perfect way to use some of it."

Bruce and Yin exchanged a look before Bruce replied, "I think we'd like to chip in and help celebrate. After all, you're not the only one who won this victory."

Ethan sobered. "You're right, Bruce. And I never would have won if you and Yin hadn't been here for me."

"So let's go eat," Yin said.

Ethan looked to the Riddler. "You're coming too, right?"

The Riddler blinked in surprise. "I don't have anywhere I need to be. As long as I'm not intruding, I'd be happy to come."

"Intruding? No way, man!" Ethan declared. "You and Yin have got so chummy that I'm really curious to get to know you."

That brought a smirk. "Well, then, by all means. But don't expect to learn too much." The Riddler slung his cane over his shoulder. "I have to keep up some semblance of mystery, after all."

"I figured on that," Ethan said. "No problem. I'll respect your privacy."

Bruce smiled, as did Yin. This was a pleasant twist. Lunch should be an interesting experience.

Overall, it was shaping up to be an excellent holiday season.


End file.
